Death of Dreams

Sadness, hopelessness.
Lauren looked at her quilt. Metal gleamed in the light, it was
strangely beautiful.
"How was your day?" her mom has asked, believing it when she said
"Fine." She wasn't suprised her mom bought it. She'd had that empty
look on her face for weeks everyday uttering that word, "Fine".
Practice does make perfect.
She laughed for the first time in days, at that thought, thinking that
it was kind of ironic.
First she'd lost her best friend. Everyone acted as if she had a
disease, her parents were fighting, and to top it all off she was
failing geometry.
The razor was sharp, new out of it's package.
"What do you want for dinner." her mother's voice suprised her her and
left a ringing in her ears.
"Whatever." she choked out, not able to take her eyes off of the
razor.
It was hard to focus on anything but that at this point.
"I left money on the table for you to order anything you want." Her
mom's voice invaded her ears and swallowed her thoughts.
Lauren didn't care.
Who would've thought she'd end up like this. In this position.
"Oh God," She prayed, "This is all I can do. I'm so sorry."
With half closed eyes she silently held in all of the fear and all of
the pain she'd held in for months.
When Jaime, her best friend, heard the news the next day the police
had to escrot her out of the school, she was in hysterics. Her friends
were cemented to their seats in shock and disbelief. Her mother was
taken to the hospital in respitory distress.
But Lauren couldn't see tommorrow, she couldn't see the love that
surrounded her and filled everyone she knew.
First, the right wrist. Sliced so straight, so beautifully. She could
take a little pain. A large crimson bubble of blood poured out. Next
the left wrist.
Lauren layed back, not noticing she was crying.
But she wasn't really scared, she didn't regret what she was doing
because inside of her, in her heart, she was already dead.