Personal Narrative-Red

The letters had been finished and stacked into a neat pile, their desolate contents masked with a bright ribbon. Pill bottles of all shapes and sizes littered the floor, the plastic bones making the once neat floor treacherous to walk across. Alcohol sloshed out of the bottle, soaking an already damp shirt.
Tears were nothing new to the girl, and she ignored them, tossing back the last of the aspirin left in the bathroom. Black swam across her vision as the multitude of pills began to take effect. A wave of anger and fear crashed over her, and before she could second guess it, the glass bottle was shattering against the wall. Fragments rained to the floor, mixing with yellow plastic and discarded notes. Slender fingers stretched out, grasping the floor for the perfect piece to satisfy her final craving for scarlet. The silence around her smothered the last lingering hopes that someone, anyone, would care enough to just come home, and with a final agonizing cry, she dragged the shard of glass down her forearm.

She stared in morbid fascination at her life draining away, violent sobs ceasing at the sight of each bloody drop. The blood soon coated her artist’s hands, then her leg, and finally the carpet underneath her. Realizing this was it, all the pain was finally going to be over, that no one would ever be able to throw cruel remarks her way again, she stretched out on the floor of her room, spreading her arms out in a twisted version of a snow angel. Red soaked the carpet, faster than she dared hope and dared believe, and letting out a twisted laugh, she sent one final ‘fuck you’ to all those who had said she was too weak to do anything for