I'm not sure when I made up my mind to... you know. It wasn't like I had ever cut my self or any thing like, I had never even really been depressed before... Edward. Sure, I had been sad at times before that, upset and crying, who hadn't? It was all part of being human, of well, being alive.

This was not being sad, this was being in pain. It hurt me to feel my heart pump my blood, to take in air, to even think. It hurt more than James had, more than any thing ever had. I would gladly let James beat me to within an inch of my life a thousand times over than deal with one more second of this. This was not humane, this was not a way I could live.

The thought popped in my head one night, while I was lying awake in bed. I had not been able to sleep within the cold arms wrapped around me, the ice cold and rock hard pillow that had been his chest. Sleepless nights were common, and they gave me more and more time to think. More time to weight the pros and cons of getting up and facing another day.

Once the seed to kill myself was planted in my head, it grew like wild weeds. Of course, it would take a lot of planning, and I was going to have to heap up the mounds of guts it took to even do it, and... I had to say good-bye.

That night, I took the first step. I decided how I wanted it done. I did not want to hang myself, it took too long... having second thoughts while hanging up there, not being able to do any thing about it... no. Slicing my wrists would spill my blood, and give me that horrible feeling inside, of wanting to throw up. A no on that one, too.

You see, I was not sadistic toward myself, I did not want myself to suffer a horrible death because I thought I deserved it. In fact, I was doing this out of compassion for myself. It was far kinder to end my pain than to keep on living. If I hated myself, the only thing I would need to do was to ignore my suicidal thoughts.

The path I picked involved pills. Charlie was on a few different ones for high blood pressure and the sorts like that, if I stole a few of those, and threw a little Advil and a bunch of aspirin into the mixture, I would surely die. Die, or be in too bad of shape to feel pain. A coma. They would have to turn the life support off some time, right?

I was not going to write a letter. Not for Edward, who would never come back for it, not for Charlie, who would only be devastated by it. I would say good-bye to him in person, leaving out the finer details of what exactly I was saying good-bye for. He would not know until he came home and found me dead.

Renee I would call. Right before I did it, she would be the last person I talked to. Again, I would only tell her that I loved her, and not that this would be the last time she would ever talk to me. How could I tell her that?

I stayed awake all that night. I didn't want to risk falling asleep and missing Charlie before he left for work, missing my chance to tell him I loved him one last time. He had put up with me for so long, I owed him this much.

I planned for right after school. My friends deserved a obscured farewell just as much as my parents. Angela most of all. How many hours did she spend on the other end of the phone, just listening to me sob? More than I cared to count at the time.

As soon as I walked in the door, I would call Renee. She would want to talk for hours - all she knew was that I was not doing good, and I refused to talk to her when she tried to call. Now I wished I could go back and change that.

I cut the conversation short. If I talked longer than ten minutes, it would be enough for me to go back on my plans, and force myself to endure more pain. Renee was not happy, but I promised to call her tomorrow, and that made her able to hang up.

She did not guess that there would not be a tomorrow for me. Did the thought cross her mind that her daughter was planning her death right now? Was she simply walking on a cloud from hearing from me? Poor mom.

I found the pills with no trouble at all. I counted out eight of Charlie's pills - his last gift to me - and three advil. I found the bottle of painkillers, and didn't even count, just pulling out a small handful.

I locked the bathroom door and turned the water on. Filling a paper cup with water to swallow the pills with, I looked in the mirror at myself one last time. Would I look different in hell? People who did this act did not get into heaven, but I wanted that way. If Edward was right, he would join me one day. And if he was wrong... he would be happy in heaven.

I didn't even think about it, just throwing the water and the pills in my mouth at the same time, swallowing them with a little difficultly die to sheer numbers. While I waited for them to do their work, I started the water in the shower and sat down it - fully clothed, not even caring.

I thought of my life. My childhood had been fairly happy, I guess. I had forgotten what happiness was, really. I thought more about Edward, I wanted his face to be the last thing I pictured before I died, the angel to carry me wherever I would go.

And he was. I felt myself slip away, the burning in my stomach, fallowed by me wanted to throw the pils back up. I covered my mouth, swallowing constantly. I could not allowed myself to screw this up, to not even be able to kill myself right.

I had no second thoughts, no longing to have my life back. This was exactly what I wanted, to die.

And die I did.