Mirror Mirror Can't You See, What You Show Is Killing Me

Calamity [Chapter 18]

It's funny, how the person you hate most is someone you used to love. But no, I can't bring myself to hate Ky. I guess he just got tired of dating a suicidal psychopath.

The one I really hate is me. 

Now, I can't even pretend that Ky and I had something. How long has that been going on, Ky and Amaya? Probably forever. I'm clueless, just a stupid, trusting little girl. I should never have let myself trust him. That was my first mistake. 

Everyone leaves.

This is the point in the script that I find my self worth in the wreck that Ky left behind right? It always happens in the  books. Any moment I should realize that I don't need him, I should have an epiphany, one where I understand that even though I miss Kat, Cas, and Abby, they're in a better place, and my place is here on earth.

But it isn't. My place is with them, among the stars. They can offer me their shoulders to cry on, and then I can get over it and they can show me around my new home. A sad smile plays across my lips. It's unfortunate when your daydreams don't involve you being alive.  

It's hard to imagine, never again breathing. Or do you breathe in heaven? Never again smiling, laughing, or drinking coffee. I wonder if they'll let me bring my eyeliner to heaven. I hope so, because that's where I'm headed.

I mentally apologize to my dead friends for coming early, and to my living friends for going at all. No time to write a suicide note, I want to get this over with right now. Pills, bleach? What's the quickest way to go? 

I finally decide on bullet to the head. If I was a good little girl, I'd do something like pills, something not messy. But no, mommy's precious little girl is cold and bitter now. Sorry mommy, I'm about to ruin your oh-so-expensive carpet. 

I take a gun from my stepfather's collection downstairs. He's supposed to keep the guns locked up, but he's just a little bit too lazy. 

Why, thank you, I think to my stepdad bitterly.  

Good-bye dear mother, are you going to get mad about the funeral costs? Get over it. I shoot at my mother mentally.

Laughing sadistically, I take the gun to my room and hold it to my head. I could be cliche and say good-bye cruel world, but that's not my style. 

So with a bitter, crazed smile adorning my face, I pull the trigger. 

Screams, sirens and everything goes black.