Sanity

This story is written in remembrance of my cousin. This story is written based on the song she gave me on the day of her death. This song echoes her last months on this earth. This character is an outline of who she was.

The tears that fall are not of the sorrow of your death. They are of happiness of your eased pain.

WARNING: The descriptions depicted are gruesome and heart wrenching. DO NOT read this is you are under thirteen. Death does occur in the form of suicide.

If I die young, bury me in satin,

Lay me down on a bed of roses; sink me in the river at dawn,

Send me away with the words of a love song, oh-oh, oh-oh

Blood leaked from the fresh carving in her wrist. The aching seemed to ooze out with the red stickiness that streamed down her arm. Delighted with the feeling, she threw the razor back into her sock drawer, tucking it neatly away from wandering eyes.

The depression still lingered. The hopeless feeling, the darkness surrounding, she looked to the laceration, suddenly that lingering faded. She smiled with the relief as her fingers traced the beautiful protuberances on her skin.

Her phone mumbled on her nightstand, and her mind rapidly turned fearful. She frantically searched for something to press against her new piece. She calmed a bit once the black band hid her marks. Those marks innocently obeyed, turning to a secretive silence at her command. She went to her nightstand to see who had interrupted her ritual. A small smile made its way to the edges of her lips.

"I love you Sam, Goodnight," she read from the screen, Danny's voice soared from behind those words, him being the culprit of the intrusion. She replied in those tender three words, and a guiltless 'sweet dreams'. The message sent, the innocence fled, and she suddenly disciplined her actions, furious with herself. 'Can you imagine how badly you'd hurt him if he found out,' she asked herself in a repeated debate.

Her mind turned sour again, and in this silence, the moist cut turned restless, desperately humming from its darkened room. When she turned her attention to it now her mind went cold and bitter. The depression snickered as it took its rightful hold on her again. She sank even deeper into its darkness. With every hour that passed afterwards, the hands on the clock took note.

Lord make me a rainbow I'll shine down on my Mother,

She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors,

Oh-and life ain't always what you think it ought to be; no,

Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby. The sharp knife of a short life,

Well I've had just enough time

Along with Danny, the concern of her mother and father made itself known. They cared for her, in a love different than Danny's. She would surely break their hearts. 'They don't even accept you for who you are,' the shadowy voice in her mind revealed. Her features turned to anger, in compliance to her foe.

Sam's mind was overtaken by a cheerful voice. A woman in perfectly rounded pink heels and a floral printed dress was the person behind such tone - that woman was her mother. And she stood in complete contrast: black was her wardrobe, unique splashed into her personality, and individual bred from her ultra-recyclo vegetarian diet. Her high-spirited parents tried to shoot down what made her, her. They didn't accept her, she didn't belong…

Another picture sneaked to the forefront, shoving against the madness. Her grandmother's image lay centered in her clouded mind. The dreadful thoughts tried to pull at the corners of the illustration, and that angry fire inside her set its crosshairs on them. She was everything she needed to be, and more, to her grandma.

She envisioned her grandmother at a gravesite; tears flowed from her aged cheeks. She went closer to comfort her, but her arms phased through the old woman (she now knew what Danny felt like). Her eyes searched for the reason that caused such sorrow in her cherished grandmother. Her mind jumped itself again, the words on the tombstone in front of her grandmother stared back at her. 'Samantha Elizabeth Manson' the words mouthed shrilly to her soul.

She was the reason, she was the pain, and she was the despair.

She gasped trying to fill her lungs with air, the blame engulfed her, and her mind seized that instance to bury that hope.

Sure enough, her supportive rock would be gone in the near future. 'Who will you have, really, once she's gone,' the thoughts argued. With that question pulling apart her heart, she let her guard down. The thoughts easily snatched at the chance to make her hope a hushed death.

She didn't fight back this time.

And I'll be wearing white, when I come into you kingdom,

I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger;

I've never known the lovin' of a man, but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand,

There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever,

Who would've thought forever could be severed by,

The sharp knife of a short life, well I've had just enough time.

With those loved ones overtaken by the cruel reminders of the misery, her mind still clung to Danny. This was her thread of sanity in such reckless considerations. She slipped further, but still gripped tight to that thread.

Valerie's face popped into her mind, then Paulina's, then Stars. She looked around, only to be surrounded by the people infatuated with Danny; all of them smirked at her. Valerie was the master behind the plot. 'He doesn't love you' the gloomy voice emerged from Val's lips. 'You know he loves me. He always has.' The look on her envisioned companions face was overcome by the evil.

She listened to every word, taking each in like a sponge. The doubt in her eclipsed, and the thread she desperately clung to was severed by her own fear and uncertainty.

'It never made sense that he could love you' she told herself as she fell. 'He'd actually be better off without you'. She fed herself lies making the thread disintegrate deepened voice let out a victorious laughter; she didn't hear it.

The illness within her sunk its talons into her mentality. As it shaped and prodded at her mind, she plotted many outcomes.

She was completely surrounded by the shadow, not even the slightest ray of light shone through it now. There was nothing to fight it with; her mind hurdled skillfully over each obstacle she had set up.

Her eyes were blinded with still intent. She was certain of what she would do. Her body complied as she found one of her accessory chains. She made it a tight collar around her neck.

'Sam, no!' A darkened boy with a red baray bellowed harshly at the shadow, startling the victorious crook. In quick realization, the villain quickly made the boy vanish.

Sam barely heard the call; it was a small whimper in her mind compared to the degrading philosophies' that shouted into her psyche.

Her eyes locked on the ceiling fan above her, she could hear it call out to her. She weakly smiled at the escape.

The madness overruled everything.

So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls, what I never did is done.

A penny for my thoughts, or no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar,

They're worth so much more, after I'm a goner

And, maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singing,

Funny when you're dead how people start a-listenin',

'No one loves you. No one wants you. You don't belong here. You're nothing. You deserve to die.' The sinister voice was the only thing that spoke. It finally had what it wanted; it had her.

She was no longer Sam Manson.

She was not human.

She was nothing.

Those violet eyes were glazed over; the relentless thoughts stole the light from them. The only reality that existed to her now was the reality this mental illness created.

Those dead eyes hunted for a hoist mechanism, they finally settled on a computer chair. The sickness took over her physical features, making her smirk as she wheeled it below her destination.

The chain around her neck had a hook on the end to attach to one of the links. She fastened herself to the inner most part of the fan, uncontrollably. She gave a strong tug to her binding, testing the durability. Dust fell into her hair, but she did not acknowledge it. The demon shouted at her, 'Do it now you worthless piece of!-'

It was gone. Suddenly nothing sounded within.

The chair made a small noise as it rolled from its assisted murder, trying to proclaim its innocence. Her jaw fell open, and the sound that escaped from its barrier was the sound of choked air draining.

She was free. No one was watching her anymore. No one controlled her anymore, a feeling she had never had before. She was finally alive… her mind, and body, and soul became one. The devil was nonexistent.

Her lids slowly sealed their last image of the outside world. Her limbs went limp, and the pain in her lungs dissolved.

She was gone.

Oh-oh, the ballad of a dove, go with peace and love.

Gather up your tears; keep 'em in your pocket,

Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em, oh,

The sharp knife of a short life, well I've had just enough time…

She looked upon the view of her former self in the arms of Jesus. She now knew how much she was always loved. The devil couldn't harm her here, those thoughts were him. She now put a name to her disease. They called it depression on earth, they tried to cure Satan's voice with drugs, but they only enhanced him.

She was rescued by the slow and painful gagging he had tried to pursue her in. Her divine hero was the hand of God.

She was always loved by Him.

She was always wanted by Him.

She always belonged with Him.

But, her sin was not rewarded. The on looking of the suffering she had caused punished her.

The first to find her lifeless body was her butler. He quickly broke her binding, catching her former frame before it hit the floor. He called for his employers, both of which he considered family. Hysterically his hands searched for a phone. His employers rushed to the room their butlers voice spread from.

At the sight, her mother's face turned sickly. Immediately her body was drained of everything contained in her. Her father was opposite, he let go of every emotion and walked to the phone on her nightstand. Dialing 911 cautiously, his voice was rough as it told their location. He could barely find words.

They both knew this was a high possibility. They knew something like this was bound to happen, but they were never prepared for what came. Death of a child was death of a part of them.

Half of them died with Sam on that ambulance journey. One of the medical professionals pronounced their baby dead. Pamela let the tears seep hopelessly down her inexpressive face. Her father simply breathed. His mind wrapped around the physical maintaining of the simple, involuntary action.

With those words a piece of them died. Jeremy let one thought enter his mind besides breathing, the boy who loved their daughter. Silently he grabbed his child's phone from his pocket, the message thread between the two still displayed on the screen. He read the conversation before dialing the number behind the words Danny.

"Sam?" A groggy voice came from the speaker pressed to the older man's ear.

"No son. Jeremy." The father's voice did not falter. The boy on the other end of the line felt the grip on his heart.

"Is-is everything…" the startled boy began to stammer. Deep down he knew the answer, and the line was mute for a lengthy ten minutes. "She's…she's gone?" he asked in a rhetorical question. He knew the things his girlfriend dealt with day by day. He knew some of the thoughts. He never listened to the severity until his mind caught up in these few minutes.

"No she's cured, son." His voice still held strong, but the burning in his eyes did not. Two tears had fallen from the boundaries of his face. The truth behind his words could not restore the part of him that was dead.

So put on your best boys, and I'll wear my pearls.

Life is not always happy endings. Death isn't always heaven if you have not accepted our Savior. My beautiful cousin is with Him now. She left this world trying to escape Satan. This is the way she died. This story is how I can try to comprehend.

True evil is in this world. Truth is suicide is not the way of making it disappear. There is not easy way out, I promise you this.

Thank you for taking the time to read her story. Please forgive the in-fluency, I promise to go through and fix what I can when I can look at it in a different light.

"…Life is changed. Not taken away…"