The sound of glass shattering filled her ears as pain flared through her hand, open cuts oozing blood. She knew what she had done, and she wasn't entirely sure she was upset about shattering the bathroom mirror.
If her parents or brother had been home, the door would have been kicked down and she would be getting reprimanded for shattering a mirror. She was sure of it. Her parents would be more concerned about the reflected surface than their daughter's bleeding hand. The only one who would probably show any kind of concern would be her brother...which is why she was sorry she was going to do what she had been planning for almost a year now.
"I'm sorry," she apologized to an empty room.
She looked back to whatever pieces were left on the wall, staring at her broken reflection. Because that's what she was. Broken.
She took in a deep breath, picked up the box, and dumped out the sharp, silver object. She was doing what needed to be done. The world would thank her later.
She walked over to the tub, turned the tap on to the lukewarm setting, and waited for it to fill up about halfway before climbing in, still in hee clothes.
She rolled up her sleeves, and then, with the blade in her right hand, placed it in the middle of her wrist. She, again, took a deep breath and then dragged the blade vertically down her arm, blood squirting out. She immediately let out panicked and pained breaths as she grabbed the blade with her shaky left hand and repeated the process, her breaths still just as pained as the original breaths.
She let her arms relax into the water as much as she could, and rested her head against the wall behind her. The water started flowing over the side of the tub with a pinkish tint to it from her forgetting to turn off the water. She just stared at the ceiling as her breaths got slower and her world got darker.
It wasn't long until her world stopped.
About a half hour later, the front door opened and shut, her brother calling for her. It didn't take long for the panic to set in when he heard the water running.
He dropped what he had in his hands and sprinted to and up the stairs and down the hall. The water soaked through his shoes and splashed with every step he took.
He reached the door, banging on it and calling her name, though he knew deep down that he was too late.
He rammed his shoulder into the door a couple tikes before it gave, leaving him to witness the horrific site.
There, in the red, blood stained water, lay his baby sister who looked as if she were sleeping. Her eyes were closed and her head was slightly tilted to the side, almost like when they were kids and fell asleep on the couch watching movies. The only difference was, this time, her chest wasn't moving, and there was no sound of her breathing.
"Shit," was the only thing that came out, and it came out in a tiny whisper.
He rushed over to her, turning off the water and trying to lift her out. He stopped only when he saw the long, dark red gashes on her arms. He closed his eyes, removing one of his arms from under her, pulled out his phone, and called 9-1-1.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"
He opened his mouth and said the four words be never thought he'd have to say: "There's been a suicide."
