They sat together, staring at the empty, wide field. The sun was slowly setting, casting an orange tint over the hill they were perched upon. She pulled out a bottle of pills from her pocket. She poured half of it into his palm, and the rest into her own.
His arms were wrapped around her tightly, and her head was on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. She poured the pills into her mouth and downed it with the water in her little bottle. He did the same. The sun had already set, and the two sat in the darkness together, embracing the serenity and silence. The stars grew brighter, watching the couple spend the last few minutes of their lives together.
Tears welled up in her sorrowful eyes. She looked up at the boy, but he had no face. Yet, he had the perfect face.
“I want to cut,” She whispered.
He didn’t say anything, and he handed her her silver blade. It was blood-stained on the edge, cold and sharp as ever. She held it to her scarred wrist, pressed it down and dragged it down, drawing carmine red blood. Thirteen long streaks later, she dropped the blade onto the grass and watched the blood flow.
He hugged her tightly, and lied her down beside him on the grass. They faced each other, staring into each other’s eyes.
For the last time ever, he whispered into her eaer, “I love you.”
They shut their eyes and drifted off into an eternal slumber, finally free from the heavy chains of life.
Then, she opened her eyes. She was in her room, in her big tee. The sun was shining through her window, flooding her room with light. She blinked the sleepiness out of her eyes and realized that she had been dreaming.
She sighed, disappointed.
If only she had the courage to kill herself in reality.
If only she had the courage to free herself from all the suffering and hurt.
If only, if only, if only…