What would Paisley be if she had parents who cared enough or friends that she could lean on?
Maybe she would be someone who wasn't desperate to feel happy, someone who had fewer issues, and maybe Paisley Roux could be a name that did not remind people of someone so chaotic.
No, maybe the better question was what would the world be without Paisley Roux?
Maybe happier? Maybe even no different? Because either people left her or didn't care about her at all.
Those thoughts swirled around Paisley's head, as she smashes the full Jack Daniels bottle, she found in a kitchen cabinet, on her bathroom floor.
The liquid immediately seeps into the wooden floor and the strong smell of alcohol fills the room.
A tear escaped her eye. That tear was for the pathetic, broken her.
She takes a sharp broken piece of the bottle and brings it up to her pale wrists.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
She cut them deeper.
Drip.
Drip.
Thud.
6:36 pm. Friday. Paisley, with a growing pool of blood around her, lay on her cold bathroom floor—lifeless.
YOU ARE READING
Paisley | ✔️
Short StoryPaisley Roux. She wasn't the type of girl your parents warned you about; she was the type of girl your parents forgot to warn you about. Exclude smoking, drinking, and partying-the typical things you do to be branded as a bad girl. Paisley was far...
