Alone she sat crying. Crying about the things she could not change. Her father leaving, her mother sick and getting worse, her sister doing drugs and drinking, her best friend dead, and everyone else turning against her. She could not stand it, she stares at the clock tic-tok, tic-tok, tic-tok. It was 2:30 am on a Tuesday morning she had decided it was best to end it on the day it began. She walked into the bathroom knife in hand climbed into the tub and said before sliting her wrists. "Happy Birthday to me."
YOU ARE READING
Depressing Stories and Poems
TerrorJust stuff I come up with read to find what twisted things come from my mind
