*** CAUTION. THIS IS ABOUT DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE! DO NOT READ IF YOU MIGHT BE TRIGGERED! ***
She grabs a knife and brings it so close to my neck,
She edges me on.
Do it, do it, do it.
She says.
Didn't I make you miserable enough?
I made him call you fat.
I made your parents fall out of love.
You could've been so happy.
But I made you miserable.
Because I am a witch.
A wicked one.
She said.
She smiled whenever I cried.
She loved the drawings I drew on my skin.
She liked how I showed control over food.
I am your worst nightmare.
She whispered.
As I listened to my mom explain what my dad's family did to her
She told me,
I made them do that.
I made her miserable.
Don't you hate me now?
I sat in the bathroom and she appeared behind me.
Why only on your thighs?
Why not on your wrists?
Maybe even your throat.
You can end it all.
She paused, and gave me a wicked smile.
You can end me.
End her.
I can end her.
It's all in my control.
She gave me control.
I am in control.
I can end her,
Just like she said.
And maybe if I do have control,
I should use it.
And I did.
--t.f.
