by Amber C. Shields
I sit on the white cot, gently I slide my fingers across the gentle baby blue material of a blanket that drapes across my lap.
I look across the room and see a white toilet and sink, I see a steel chair and table. Atop the table I see flowers' from my mother.
Red and yellow with lively green leaves. Slowly I push aside the blanket and rise letting my bare feet patter across the stone floor.
Standing next to the table I lean down and let myself breath in the sweet fumes of a red flower, thinking of my mother and her kind ways.
Then I remembered how she let them take me, to this awful place.
Anger surges through my veins. I pick up the vase and let it glide through the air to the stone wall.
The glass breaks and the memories take me back. I fall to the ground sobbing, the memories hurt.
I think back to my first day in this room. I remember looking at the guard, I remember his words, Welcome to your suicide room. I pick up a large piece of glass and easily slide the glass across my wrist, nothing happens its not deep enough.
Then I stop and think, is it worth it? I'll never know. I press the glass deep into my wrist, the words Welcome to your suicide room echo in my head. Then darkness overcomes me