Title: Nothing and Everything Before.
Author: Taz
Rating: R for dark situations.
Summary: The morning after the night before. Not a hangover, more of an emotional blackhole. Sometimes, nothing can be the hardest thing to bear.
Buffy entered the room and placed her bag down on the bed. Padding around the little bedroom she closed the curtains and turned on some soft music. She undressed and changed into fresh clothes, carefully selecting a bubblegum pink vest and a pair of low-hanging jeans, then squirted a little of her favourite perfume on her neck and between her breasts. Finally, she sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled her things out of her bag. As she looked down at the small pile in front of her she hummed along to the song on the CD player.
You've been waiting a long time,
You've been waiting a long, long time
To fall down on your knees
Cut your hands, cut yourself until you bleed
Then fall asleep next to me
Firstly, she unscrewed the lid of the small white tub and tipped it's contents into her palm, staring down at it with mild interest. How to do this?
Wait for everyone to go awayAnd in a dimly lit
Room where you've got nothing to hide
Say your goodbyes
Slowly, she lined up the row of sleeping pills. Forty-eight white tablets. One at a time. Reaching across the bed she picked up the bottle of whiskey and unscrewed the cap. Taking one pill in her hand she took a mouthful of the burning liquid and began to swallow the deadly cocktail. By pill thirty-five she was starting to feel woozy and scooped up the remaining thirteen pills, chug-a-lugging them quickly.
Blinking hazily through a Diazepam induced fog, she reached for the final item; a small, razor-sharp pocket knife. Flicking open the blade she listened to the song as she lowered it to the tender skin of her wrist.
Tell yourself they'll read a note that says 'I'm sorry everyone, I'm tired of feeling nothing goodbye' Wash your face, dry your eyesWithout even wincing, she felt the blade bite home. Blood oozed thickly, almost lazily, from her veins, welling from the neat incision and sliding down her arm in a slow, red river. Dizziness soon began to invade her senses…
Was this how it was supposed to feel? Shouldn't she feel some kind of panicked remorse? Shouldn't she feel some exquisite sadness as she pictured her funeral, friends and family dressed in black standing around her grave weeping and mourning. Why was there nothing but swirling darkness and emptiness? Strange, but not unwelcome…
