Death Is Among Us
The hot paper curled toward her fingers as she lit it on fire. The barely legible, hand-written letter was burning, and her falling tears wouldn't put the fire out.
Nothing would put the fire out.
The blazing inferno bent the paper, charring it, making it black. It kept curling, and her tears kept falling.
And the fire was out. And there was no more paper.
A thunderclap was heard, and she turned toward the window. It was raining. No one would know.
She took the knife off the bedside table and walked outside. Her tears and the rain mixed; no one could tell the difference.
She sunk to her knees on the concert beneath her. Cars passed by still, but they didn't seem to care. Or didn't see her.
The pain was still there. And so was the loss. It had been three days since she had received the letter. The letter that told her that they were dead.
Her family was dead.
She had no one left. Nothing left. Nothing but the pain and sorrow.
She took the knife and held it to her throat. One move of her shaking hand and it all would be over. It would all be over.
She moved her hand half-an-inch and she felt the pain increase. But this was a good pain. The was a pain she had control over. Blood began to flow from her neck. Blood. There must have been a lot of blood. Her son and husband were dead.
But then a hand was on her shoulder and a soft voice spoke in her ear.
"Let's go home," Jack said.
She looked up at him. He had sincere sadness in his eyes. He knew what she was going through. He would help her.
A sudden gust of wind blew her hair into her face, into her blood. The screeching was unbearable, the lightning bright.
"Sam, come on!" Jack grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up. But it was too late.
With the next bolt of lightning brought death. She moved her hand, ever-so-slightly, and slit her throat. Her head rolled to one side.
"Sometimes the pain becomes unbearable. But it's the ability to make it stop which drives you. Don't let pain take control and don't let go of the wheel." If only she'd listened to his words she would've lived. She would've gone just another two days to find that they weren't dead.
They weren't dead. But she was.