She always wanted a quick death. The kind of death that did not come with fuss.The kind of death that came with peace. She did not want a death that involved a hospital bed, no, she really hated hospital beds. She wanted a death that took you to the afterlife with undulated speed. She wanted a kind of death that involved injecting poison into one’s blood vessels or maybe the kind of death where a bullet is shot neatly in the head, between the eyes, swiftly to the heart. A gun shot that ensured she stayed dead and had no way of coming back. She also preferred the kind of death that made her bleed less. The kind of death where once she was gone, she could stay at the sidelines in the afterlife and watch her family mourn her in peace, not clean up her blood and shrink into shells of their selves due to the immense pain.

However, if she ever wanted a much slower death, she would have preferred dementia, the kind of death that made sure you could not remember anyone, the death that ate away your memories chip by chip. She rather go through pain knowing she knows no one, knowing her mental ability at memory recalling is fading away bit by tidbit alongside her life.

Maybe, this was why, as she sat down in her room, with the injection she had gotten through persistence,a lot of lies and not surprising, stealing, she felt sure of her decisions. She did not try to jump down from a building, there was a chance she...