A/N: Okay, so just a random one shot, not connected to anything else I've written. TW: suicide and self-harm, so please don't read if you are sensitive to either of those subjects. I will try and write something a little happier sometime soon, but at the moment I've really been struggling with really bad urges to cut, so this is sort of what I'm channelling those thoughts into. Idk, it helps. I feel like this is really bad, it took me a while to put down on the page and I think it's a bit all over the place, but I'm really not myself at the moment so that's probably why, like my head doesn't feel like me and I haven't been sleeping so sorry. But anyway, leave me a review if you want more stuff like this, or if you would prefer something happier next time.

Jane stuffed a pillow over her head, trying to shut out the voices whirling through her mind. Of course it didn't work, it never did. She could never get them to stop, leave her alone, just give her some peace.

Worthless. Disappointment. Let down. Horrible friend. Disgraceful sister. Everyone hates you.

All she wanted was to sleep peacefully for once. She was tired, run down and sleeping seemed like the perfect solution. But she would have to wake up, face everything all over again. She wanted to sleep, yes. But forever. She didn't want to have to see through another day. Trying to pretend it was okay, that she was okay.

Because everything was not okay. It hadn't been for a long time and now she was losing everyone she loved, pushing them away so they didn't see how… weak she was. Because she was weak. She was letting her mind take control, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Jane removed the pillow from over her face and sat up. It was late. She wasn't sure what time, she had removed the clock when she found herself watching the seconds ticking by one night. She had hoped it would help her sleep, not having a constant reminder that it was getting closer to her having to get up and face everyone. It hadn't, of course. And she hadn't bothered to get another one. She had decided it was a waste of time, a waste of effort, and she didn't really care that much whether she had one or not.

Jane stumbled out of bed, untangling her sweaty body from the bed sheets. Her breathing was erratic and her hands were shaking. She needed a drink. Just to calm herself down. Maybe that could make the nightmares stop. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it didn't. But that never stopped her trying.

She grabbed a bottle of bear from the fridge, the cool bottle refreshing to her clammy hands. She tried to open it, cursing under her breath. She couldn't stop her hands shaking for long enough just so she could open the bottle. The anger built up in her and before she knew what she was doing she had smashed to bottle.

And then she was crying. Uncontrollably so. Sobs were tearing through her body and she couldn't catch her breath. Her body fell to the floor and she didn't even notice when she put her hand into the broken glass that lay on the floor.

She sat there for a while, she wasn't exactly sure for how long. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours passed. But that didn't stop the voices. And it didn't stop her from thinking.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates you. You're worthless.

They were right, she knew they were right. No one had even noticed anything was wrong. They didn't care enough to notice. They were all on some big inside joke. 'Let's see if Jane actually believes we like her'. 'Let's see how long it takes her to realise we hate her'. Because of course they hated her. It only made sense.

All through school she had no friends. No proper friends. Yes there were people she got on with, but they weren't her friends, she didn't trust them, she couldn't talk to them and the certainty weren't the sort of people you would invite over to your house. So why had that suddenly changed. She was an adult, but that didn't explain why people liked her, why they wanted to befriend her.

She imagined them all, laughing behind her back at how stupid she was being, amazed that she still thought they were her friend. All sat at the Robber, making jokes about her. She hated the thought, but she knew it was true and she couldn't change the truth, no matter how much she wanted to.

But she didn't, not really. Because that made sense. It made sense for people to do that to her, laugh at her, hate her. It didn't make any sense for people to be nice, she didn't understand it and she was perfectly fine being by herself. She just wished they had allowed her to do that without making her feel worthless about herself.

Her thoughts flickered to Maura. To the woman she loved. And it broke her heart, knowing that she hated her, that this was all a joke to her. That their friendship really meant nothing. But as she continued to think, maybe it was the other way around.

Maura wouldn't join in on something like that, she wouldn't actively hurt someone, because she had been the person with no friends. They were similar in that sense, they both knew what it felt like to feel completely alone. So it was Jane's fault. It was all her fault.

She had fucked up their friendship. Maura had meant everything to her, and by pushing her away, by allowing herself to think Maura hated her, she had shown Maura that their friendship was nothing. Maura had trusted her, she had been Maura's first proper friend and she had thrown it in her face. She had let her down so many times, it was any wonder that she still even talked to Jane. She had put Maura in danger, just be being her friend. She had ruined her life by starting a friendship with her.

Maura would be better off without you.

And she knew it was true. Maura wouldn't be in danger ever again if she left. She wouldn't have to put up with all her shit. She could do her own thing without having to worry about Jane. And Jane could do that for her, she could make Maura's life better, she could make her happier. And that's what she wanted. Just for Maura to be happy, and she knew that wasn't going to happen while she was around.

She knew what she had to do. It was the clearest thing she had thought in a long while. She had finally thought of how she could make everything better. She didn't know why it had taken her so long, now she had realised it surprised her that she hadn't done so earlier. She was so selfish that she couldn't even think of how to make everyone else's lives less painful. No wonder they all hated her.

You selfish bitch.

She stood up, still shaking, but less so and grabbed some paper and a pen. She needed to apologise to Maura first, tell her how sorry was that she had ruined her life, tell her how sorry she was that she had fucked everything up.

She wrote quickly, not even sure if she was making sense, but she didn't care. She was rambling, she knew it, but Maura would understand, somehow she always did. Her writing was messy, scrawled across the page and she couldn't really stop writing once she had started, everything she was sorry for, everything she had done wrong since she had known Maura.

Once she stopped, she was crying again. She hadn't realised what a horrible friend she was, and no after she had written it all down and apologised, she wondered how Maura didn't hate her more. She left it on the table, knowing that Maura would get it. Maybe when she came over one night later this week, maybe when someone delivered it to her when they found her.

Jane went to the bathroom and started running the bath. She never usually had a bath, instead showering as it was often quicker and easier so preferring it when she was shattered from work. As the water ran, Jane looked through the cupboard that was under the sink.

She kept some blades in there that she used sometimes. She used them mainly when things got really bad, it was the only think that really worked for her but she hated it. She hated scarring her own body, it was like a constant reminder of how much she had failed, how much of a let-down she was. She hated that it worked, but loved that something did. She was torn between making things feel better and having that permanent reminder of how bad things got. It didn't matter now. She didn't care now.

She found them, hidden in the back, just in case anyone went in there. She wasn't sure why anyone would be looking through the cupboard under her bathroom sink, but just in case.

She looked at herself in the mirror once she stood and noticed how much of a mess she was. She suddenly noticed how much weight she had lost, her cheek bones jutting out more than they used to, she had dark circles under her eyes, her eyes was even more a mess than usual as she hadn't washed it in a while. What was the point anyway?

She ran her hands over her face and turned away from the mirror, disgusted with herself. She stopped the bath water running and climbed in, not even bothering to take off her clothes. The water relaxed her slightly, and it surprised her. She had never experienced it before. Maura had told her previously that it might help her relax after a stressful case, but she had never given it a chance. Maybe she should of.

She took the blade and made several small cuts on her wrist, getting deeper each time. She watched the blood run down her arm and felt suddenly peaceful. She made some cuts on the other arm, deeper still and lay back.

She felt surprisingly peaceful, more so than in any other near-death experience she had been in. Perhaps it was because she was in control, she knew what was happening and she was the cause of this. She wasn't being hurt by another person, she wasn't in any danger, and she wanted this. That didn't scare her. if several years ago you had told Jane Rizzoli that one day she would be sat in her bath, bleeding from both of her wrists, ready to die, she would have thought you were joking, the mere idea of dying at her own hands, not while saving someone else, not doing the thing she loved most, would have scared her. She wouldn't have admitted it, but it would have scared her.

All through her life she had never understood how people were able to take their own lives, leave behind the people who loved them. But now she knew. They did it, she was doing it, to save them, because they deserved so much better. She had never been able to imagine the unbearable pain someone must be in to do that to themselves, to hurt themselves physically so it took the pain away. Now she knew. She hadn't been able to understand how someone could hid it away from the people they loved, how no one noticed that something was wrong. Now she did.

But that didn't scare her. She had always imagined herself to be scared in the face of death, it was what everyone thought, it was what people told you. But maybe that was just to stop you doing dangerous things, maybe they thought that you wouldn't doing reckless things if you knew how scared you would be. Because if she knew how much better this was than living, she was sure she would have done it long before now.

Jane could feel herself slipping away, but she didn't fight it, she welcomed it. This was the most relaxed she had been in a long time and it was nice, she had almost forgot what it was like to be this relaxed. Her eyes had flickered shut. She wasn't exactly sure when, but she wasn't even sure how long she had been led there, but she found that they were heavy when she tried to open them. So she gave up. She didn't need to open them, not really, she wasn't sure why she tried.

She felt herself slip away and then back again. Then there was knocking. She wasn't sure what it was, but she didn't really care. Someone was calling her name, but she wasn't sure whether it was from her life where she was sat in her bath or whether she had slipped unconscious and it was some weird dream she was having. It confused her, but she let it go, she hadn't experienced dying before so she wasn't exactly sure what to expect.

There was the banging again. Was it in her head? Why wouldn't it stop? It stopped. She felt herself slip away again and she was sure a smile graced her lips as she left.

And then she was on the floor. Why was she on the floor? What was going on? She opened her eyes and frowned. She was pretty sure that was her bathroom ceiling, why was she looking at her bathroom celling? Maybe it wasn't, maybe she was just confused.

But then she heard Maura. Or someone who sounded a lot like Maura, because it couldn't be Maura. Maura wasn't dead, she was. That wasn't fair, she didn't want to hear Maura. She closed her eyes again and Maura's voice stopped. Everything stopped.

This was it, everything was okay now. Everyone could be happy now, no more pretending, no more joking, no more laughing at her. It was okay now.

A/N: Okay so yeah, crappy little thing. I feel this is literally just not even anything, but yeah, thanks for reading.