A/N: I own nothing except my story. I hope you enjoy it, I was bored. Please review. It's my first time doing angst.
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Doors can lead to many things
She stood in the archway of the door.
She had made her decision, behind her was her past, before her was her future. She was leaving behind her the sleepless nights, the fear and furry created from just one moment, one single moment that she just could not forget.
God help her if she forget. It was what reminded her of how the world really is.
Cruel.
Heartless.
Unjust.
She remembered what her father use to say to her with a beer bottle in one hand and a fag in the other,
"Life's unfair Lindsay. Kill yourself and get it over with".
And that's exactly what she was going to do.
---
She looked behind her one last time.
The memories came flooding back.
The memories that kept her awake each night in fear. The ones that made her mother worry about her so. The ones that made sure that where ever she went, she could never escape from their bounds.
Yet they were all destroyed when she thought about him.
The one man that could get rid of all the bad things in her life by just looking at her, by just realising that she was there.
The one man that could make her feel safe by just standing in the same room.
The one man that said he would be there for her if she ever need him.
And boy did she need him now.
---
But how could she tell him.
Tell him that her hair wasn't thinning naturally by inherited genes, but from the sleeping pills which she took.
Tell him that she drunk coffee instead of tea because she didn't like the herbal taste, but because it was the only substance that had been keeping her awake for the past 7 years. Tell him that her eyes weren't bloodshot from the overnight stays she had at the lab to get her paperwork finished, but from the tears she wept every time she awoke from her dreams.
Yet they weren't dreams. And they weren't night mares either.
They were her memories.
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The memories that were sicker than any blockbuster movie ever made.
The memories which if you wanted to find her after one of the 'trips down memory lane', all you had to do was follow the retching sounds coming from the bathroom down the hall.
The memories that would haunt her to the very last breathe she would take on this earth if she didn't get rid of them.
And getting rid of them is what she wanted more than anything.
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Her bathroom cabinet was padlocked.
To a visitor it would seem as protection. Protection for the nieces and nephews that came to visit her.
But that wasn't the reason.
Yes, it was for protection. But protection from the questions that would be asked if anyone looked inside.
The shelves were crammed full of neatly lined up bottles. Bottles which contained pills. Antidepressants, sleeping, headache and even little pink ones which she didn't know the name of but took anyways.
All were used to try and numb out the real world.
But they didn't work
They never worked.
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Using the key which she hid in her underwear drawer, she unlocked the bolt.
Her pale, clammy hand reached for the first bottle and emptied its contents into the plugged sink.
Baby blue pills toppled out of the plastic cylinder and bounced once before settling in the ceramic bowl.
She reached up again.
Pink pills this time.
Then yellow and blue again.
All the while she was thinking if using her gun would be quicker, less painful, but she decided against it.
She had all these pills; she might as well use them.
She poured the last of them.
White this time. White, the colour of innocence. The innocence she once possessed.
And that was when the first tear fell.
The only tear that fell.
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Grabbing her red lipstick which she rarely used, she connected it to the mirror and wrote. Just a simple message, yet it contained more that just words.
Once finished she put it down and filled up her glass cup with water before swallowing the plastic capsules like they were sweets.
She had collapsed to the floor before she had finished all the pills.
Her heart frantically beat up and down before fluttering and coming to rest, like a butterfly landing on a plant.
A butterfly that, in a few days time, would meet its fate, just like everything else on this world.
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He used the spare key he found in the potted plant outside the front door.
He was worried. They were all worried.
She hadn't come into work that morning and no one knew where she was.
Once inside he called out for her. But she didn't respond. He made his way through her apartment getting more and more anxious when she wasn't in any of the rooms.
The kitchen.
The living room.
The bedroom.
Nothing.
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That was before he saw the closed door.
He pushed it open, calling her name but it died before the he reached the end.
He looked around the room but his vision was blurred by the tears threatening to fall.
He wiped them away and studied the contorted figure which lay on the black and white linoleum floor.
He crouched down and touched her wrist.
Nothing.
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He got up again and turned to leave but looked towards the sink first.
The forgotten containers scattered on the floor beneath with their lids resting around the basin.
Inside he expected to see nothing.
But his eyes sought out the one remaining pill.
A white pill.
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He tore his eyes away and looked up.
The mirror that was once clean now had red lines scrawled on it.
He wiped his eyes so he could read the familiar handwriting.
"Shut the door on the way out"
And that's what he did.
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Hope you liked it. It was my first time doing angst so I would really appreciate the reviews. So please review!