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Time’s Up

By @Eddie_Harbot

Barett Davis was dying.

And no one cared.

She sat, motionless, staring at the cruel world through a large square window. The gray sky reflected on her once-vibrant face. It had been raining that day, and drops of water rolled down the glass, in sync with the tears on her cheeks. The weather was so dreadful, it seemed to envy the drab, pale blue room that contained her. It was the perfect day to die. 

Do I just do it? She thought. Do I just…go?

It seemed wrong to leave so suddenly, but it was all that was left to do.

How she wished she were surrounded by sorrowful faces and hands hanging on to hers, begging her not to go. But there was nobody on earth with a hand to give. This was not how she wanted to die.

It was a shame that she had no say in the specifics of her passing.

She looked around at the world one last time, saying goodbye to the setting she had spent the last of her days in. Her eyes seeped into every crevice of the room, saving every detail in her mind.

Her last seconds began ticking away.

She pushed open the window that she had stared through for the majority of her lifetime. Cool air hit her face. The pressure in her chest built up , and her heart tightened with pain. She gazed at the gray world through wet eyes as the ache in her head covered her mind with blackness. As her life reached its end, she began counting down. 

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. 

And then she jumped. 

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