Another tedious day. Dragged myself home from church, only to endure his incessant nagging once again. Why bother making me go? Screw him.

The bastard's ignorance drives me to the brink. I reach for the pill bottle on my bedside table. Might as well drift off for a bit. I pop a pill, washing it down with water. Ah, the soothing rush of medication abuse. No reason not to indulge.

Tossing the bottle aside, I fumble for my pencil sharpener in the drawer. Anticipation courses through me as I await the comforting sting of the blade. Clumsy as ever, I drop the sharpener, cursing my incompetence.

After retrieving it, I finally pry it open. The blade gleams in my hand, my sole companion in this desolate world. With a deep breath, I press it against my wrist, slicing once. At first, there's no blood, just pale flesh yielding to crimson rivulets. I stare, transfixed.

Minutes pass, the crimson trail marking my descent into numbness. Too drained to bother cleaning up, I collapse onto the bed. The last sensation I register is the cool air against my open wound before darkness claims me.