A Blissful Death

The aromatic essence of bath salts floated above the powder blue water.

This was it. The last dip.

Soothing baths used to bring her joy and happiness. Foam lathering her body, candles shimmering around, casting golden shadows. A tranquility. Now, that virtue is unrecognizable, all she sees before her is her deathbed.

She closed her eyes, taking it all in. One last chance she thought. Unlocking her phone, she refreshed her messages. Hoping for any single soul.


Anger surged through her veins, yet it was overshadowed by something heavier and darker. Not fear, not joy nor sadness. A cold, detached feeling that made her feel, for the first time in a long time, powerful and in control. She didn’t care. 

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Pink lips, rosy cheeks, perfect hair. One feature stood out: Beaten down, miserable eyes that grew dead, emotionless and hard over the past months.

She climbed into the bathtub, feeling the water slowly scramble up her feet, and gradually laid down. A sea of droplets ran throughout legs, then up her midsection and her arms. Smothering her body.

She let out a deep breath and swirled her hands in the water, admiring the tiny waves caused by the ripples. Her fingernails, coated with chipped black nail polish, looked foreign and unfamiliar underwater. Making her think of how her body would be a few minutes later. She didn’t think of anyone. She shouldn’t. She spent the last six months crying out for help, hoping for anyone to reach out, yet no-one did. She loved her parents, of course, she did, but they are better off without her miserable life. No more psychologist fees, no more expensive drug prescriptions, no more sympathy, no more pity, no more her.

She reached over the bathtub to her phone.

3:15 p.m

Two more hours till her parents come home from work. Enough time for her to meet her end.

Two razor blades glinted at the edge of her bathtub. Her father’s. She picked each carefully, thinking how something so tiny can be so harmful. In one swift motion, she slit her wrists vertically, gasping in the process. Blood seeped out and into the water, turning it a light shade of crimson red. Her wrists stung when met with water, but she didn’t yell nor gasp.

She stayed, swarmed by her thoughts, for twenty minutes before lightheadedness took over. Her head lolled to the side and slid down, devoured by the water.

The numbness imploded. Although her body was intact, she shattered into a million pieces. Water traveled down the network of her lungs; filling each and every path, ridding it of air. Inside, she screamed and cried, not for help but for her sadness and distress.

Alas, the water filled her lungs to the brim, releasing one final bubble of air from her parted plump lips. Her glassy doll-like eyes crying out: Will anyone ever care?



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