The Day I Died

by E.B. Black

I had lived. And living meant that I had tried to kill myself and failed. It wasn’t even a possibility I had considered before now. I’d always known I couldn’t do anything right, but killing myself? I thought I’d at least be able to succeed with that.

But I hadn’t done this to her. I had done it to myself, in order to save her and others from the burden of being around me anymore.