Ever since my sister passed the age of which she needed me, I hadn’t a use for my life anymore. Nothing I ever did filled me with passion or love, or… _anything. _All I wanted was for all of it to just stop, for me to be able to feel emotions again. Now, I see this is a hopeless dream.

A knock at my door stops the endless train of thought. “Who is it?” I ask, with something in my throat blocking most of the volume I can make. “It’s Mother. May I come in?” Despite everything she has put me through, this time it seems she wants to apologize. “Sure.”

She now sits at my bedside. “We all have been very worried about your mental health.”

“Like _that’s _anything new.”

“Yes, but…”

Her holding my journal in her hand tells me everything.

Now, the thing blocking my throat becomes more intense. It feels as if I’m trying to stop myself from breathing. Despite my desire to stop it all, Mother is here, and finally learning who I am, so I force myself to gasp rapidly for air. Mother helps by grabbing the inhaler on my desk.

“You said in your journal you wished for me to kill you.”

My hands are shaking now. “My life is empty. That is all I want. Show them my journal, if they believe you did this with your own will.”

“Honey, you’re sure you want to go through with this?”

“I’m done waiting around for it. Here’s my pocket knife.”

She stared at me for a moment, likely with pity and sadness, then plunged the knife into my stomach.

_Freedom._