A Choice

I'm going to tell you a story, a dark, sad story. This story has no happy endings, and its life-force is sucked dry until only the barest drop remains, and that too is ripped from its trembling, broken shell that was once me.

Please, if you are sensitive, if you are too empathetic, if you have any semblance of emotion, this book is too harsh for you. But why don’t you continue reading anyway? This was I can tear you apart, rip your still beating heart from your chest so that you lay dying on the cold hard floor.

Just like I did.

That’s right, I’m dead.

But don’t go asking me to tell you about where the hell (pun intended) I am or what the afterlife is like. That’s not my point for talking to you.

I died a long time ago, and my death was long in coming. I knew it would happen in some way or another, but never did I dream that my death would occur in the way that it had.

Never had I thought in my eighteen years leading up to my death that the downward spiral would begin with one small choice.