A/N This piece is the writing of a suicide note. Please do not read if this is going to affect you. Pill taking is mentioned but this story stops at the first one, I didn't think it was necessary or appropriate to go through that here, but there are mentions. Read at your own risk, I know this one is pushing it

This is it. I've made up my mind in the past few days that I'm finally going to it it. Everything's too much, the world on top of me. There's no use talking anymore: it never helps anyway.

I've just emptied a ridiculous number of tablets out of their packets, into a little box I found. Looking at them I can't help but swear, the reality of what I'm about to do hitting me.

Suddenly I think. If this works, I won't be able to say anything to Cam, to Mike, to anyone. I need to write something for them to have when I'm gone.

I decide to write on my phone. From what I've read this could be a slow death, and I don't want anyone to find the note before I'm ready for them to. When I feel like I'm going I'll leave it unlocked and write a note for Cam to turn it on.

My hands are shaking as I begin to type.

If I'm no longer alive, please contact the following people (everyone is in my contact list on my phone, you know the number for Elm Tree):

Gina and the kids at Elm Tree. I loved my job as a care worker, and I shall really miss spending time with everyone there. To the kids: you are all amazing, special, wonderful people. This wasn't your fault, and I'm sad I won't be around to see the awesome adults you turn out to be. I love you all. To Gina: I know we didn't always get on, but I know I didn't always show when we did. You've been a wonderful mentor, colleague, and friend. I know you'll carry on looking after those kids in the way they deserve, and they're lucky to have you.

Seth. I don't really know what we were in the end, but I enjoyed the time we spent together. I'm sorry I didn't come on the tour, but my place was here. Maybe in another life we would have had a whirlwind romance, maybe we would have in this one. Just know I loved you, and I'm sorry we didn't get more time to figure it out.

Tears roll down my cheeks. I turn to the pills, then to a picture of me and Cam on the bedside table. I turn it over so I can't see it: this is difficult enough without her watching me.

Jackie, Crash and Louise. I know I haven't kept in touch like I should have done, and I'm sorry. I don't even know if the numbers I have still work, but there are email addresses in my phone too. I'd like them to know I've gone, they deserve to know I've gone. We had so many good memories together, and I'd hate for them not to be told.

Mum (Carly). I don't really have anything to say, so I won't. There's an email under her name, hopefully it still works. Just tell her I've gone. She is my mum after all, she deserves to know I'm no longer here.

Mike.

I have to stop for a moment as the tears increase. The idea of leaving Mike breaks my heart in two. He's done so much over the years, helped me through so many difficult times.

Sadly this is one difficult time too much.

I'm sorry. I know you would have wanted to help, but nothing can help me right now. I'll miss you the most. Thank you for everything you've done, from when I was a kid right until recently. I've always thought of you as my dad, and I'm sorry I never got the opportunity to tell you that. I love you. If you can, honour my memory by looking after the kids, and any future kids, the same way you did me.

I can't stop the tears. I place the box to one side, bringing my knees to my chest as I sob. The idea of leaving Mike is killing me, though it's still not quite as difficult as leaving the world.

I cry for a few minutes before I brace myself. I just have one more to do.

Cam. I love you, you are my mum through and through, and I'm sorry. I know this will come as a shock, I know you'll want answers. I don't even know anymore. There's so much from over the years piled up, my head is convinced that everyone around me just pretends to like me, because how could they really? Rationally I know that's not true, but nothing seems rational at the moment. You did make a difference though, without you I'd have done this long ago. Thank you for being the difference in my life. I'll miss you just as much as Mike, maybe more.

I place the phone down for a moment. The idea of leaving Cam is pulling me to stay. Like I've just written, Cam loves me, Mike loves me, Gina and the kids love me. I'm surrounded by people who care about me.

But something niggles. My mum gave me up for a reason. Cam went to New York for a reason. Mike hasn't been stepping in as much as he used to. Maybe they don't actually want me anymore. I know I don't want me, so why would they?

I turn to look at the pills. With a new determination I go back to my phone.

I don't mind what you do with my things. You can keep them, sell them, give them away. Obviously Cam can have any money in my account, and you can do with that what you wish. I have no preferences for a funeral, but anyone on this list should be allowed to come if they want to,and anyone else who knew me should be allowed to say goodbye. And you can tell anyone else you wish that I'm no longer here, that's up to you.

I read over when I've written, though I can barely see for tears. I can feel myself faltering again. I know that if I put the pills back in the cupboard that I don't have to do it today, that I can ring Mike and he'll make sure I'm safe. That as long as I tell somebody how I'm feeling they can stop it from happening.

But I don't want to. This feels like the only option now. There doesn't seem any point in prolonging the suffering for no reason. I have to do this.

I'm sorry for leaving. I know you're better off without me, but I think it will hurt you too. Please remember me. I'll miss you all.

With a shaky sigh I save the note, name it, and then close the app. I'll unlock my phone and leave the note open when I know I'm going to go. I put it down on the table next to me.

The tears are beginning to lessen, though a fear is filling me. This is it now. There's nothing else to be done, nothing anyone else can do. It's down to me to do this.

I pick up the box of pills. I close my eyes for a moment, preparing myself for what I'm about to do. Then I open them again, my mind clear, made up, focused. I've said my goodbyes, now it's time to go.

The first pill enters my mouth.