Suicide Box

Chapter 7

A/N: Stay with me here...

I could start earlier in life- there so many things, so many factors that had proven to me that I needed to die. At church, and music class recitals, I still managed to be the sole negative factor. Looking at my suicide box, I considered the positives of removing myself from the equation.

My mother had come home just then, and called me. I knew it was Wednesday and that she would want me to follow her to the supermarket. That ritual never seemed to have changed. With a sigh, I closed my box and placed it under my bed, deciding to use its contents when I got back.

That particular trip was clearly different from the ones we'd had before. Usually, my mother would open the car door for me and carefully place me in the car. Usually, she would frown as she picked up boxes and cans, put them in the basket and then later, put the boxes and cans back onto the shelf. She'd sigh as she made multiple trips up and down the same isles. But that particular Wednesday was already different. My mom got in the car and slammed the door, never helping me in. She never looked at me when I fell and cut my legs badly on the road in my haste to please her. She left me out in the rain and marched ahead into the store.