Tears.
They stream down her face as she remembers what happened.
Cries.
She screams at the memories of the bad.
Loneliness.
No one is there for her when she needs someone most.
Pain.
She smiles into it as she drags the rusty blade across her wrist with the pressure it needs to break the skin.
Red.
It rolls down her arm and hand and pours out of the cut onto the white carpet, staining it to always be a reminder of the pain. Ten.
Little white pills she takes to ease her suffering.
Darkness.
She welcomes it with a smile as she knows it's all over.