𝐜υ𝐫เ𝑜𝓈ιţ𝕪

“Do You Know How Dying Feels?”

She asked it the way someone asks about the weather.

The room didn’t answer.

It was past midnight. The house had that strange, hollow silence that only exists when everyone else is asleep or gone.

She sat alone on the couch, barefoot, wrapped in a white floral flowy dress she had worn for no reason other than “why not look pretty during a breakdown?”

She was at that phase of life where tasting death didn’t scare her at all.

Not because she was brave.

But because she was tired.

Tired in the BONES.

Tired in the SOUL.

Tired in a place no one could SEE.

“Okay but seriously… how does it feel?” she muttered. “Is it like sleeping? Or like buffering? Because my life has been buffering since 2019.”

She laughed softly at her own joke.

No one laughed with her.

“Maybe I just need to experience it ONCE,” she whispered casually. “Like a free trial.”

Her eyes drifted to the coffee table.

A plate.

Curled apple peels.

And a knife resting innocently beside them.

She stared at it.

Then she smiled.

Not sweetly.

Not warmly.

A little crooked. A little unhinged.

“Well,” she whispered, tilting her head, “Here YOU Go. I’ve got to find myself somehow.”

Her fingers wrapped around the handle slowly, almost tenderly. The metal felt colder than she expected.

“Why are you COLD? We live in the same house,” she murmured at it.

She traced the edge with her fingertip.

A small sting.

A tiny red bead formed.

She blinked.

“Ooooo,” she breathed, oddly fascinated. “I didn’t know I had this much blood inside of ME. That’s impressive!! GOOD JOB, body!”

A droplet fell.

Then another.

They landed softly on her white dress, blooming into dark stains.

Wine-colored, almost artistic.

She watched them spread.

“That escalated quickly,” she added with a crooked smile.

For a moment, she pressed her finger to her lips and tasted iron.

“Huh. Metallic. Not romantic at ALL.”

But her voice cracked.

And she hated that.

She brought the knife closer, her breathing steady. She closed her eyes. Not out of fear, but focus. She wanted to feel every second. To understand it. To STUDY it.

“I’m not scared,” she whispered. “Just… curious.”

The room felt colder.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock ticked too loudly.

And then

There was pain.

Her breath hitched.

Her body reacted FASTER than her mind had prepared for.

“O-okay,” she gasped softly. “That’s… that’s new.”

She hadn’t expected the warmth.

Or the weakness.

Or the way tears betrayed her so suddenly.

They slipped down her cheeks despite her stubborn attempts to blink them away. They fell onto her skin, mixing with red.

“No crying,” she muttered weakly. “You wanted to KNOW, remember?”

But her mind betrayed her too.

Memories began flickering behind her closed eyes like scenes from an old film.

Her mother laughing in the kitchen.

Her younger self running barefoot in the rain.

The dog she promised she’d grow old with.

The message she never replied to.

The hug she refused out of pride.

“I could’ve stayed a little longer…” she whispered.

Her head tilted back against the couch.

“I could’ve tried one MORE time.”

Her vision blurred.

“What if I had just WAITED?”

Her body felt heavier.

“What if tomorrow was actually BETTER?”

The room spun.

“What if I called her BACK?”

Her fingers trembled.

“What if I wasn’t DONE yet?”

The clock kept ticking.

Tick...

Tick...

T i c k...

Her breathing slowed.

Her hand slipped.

The knife clattered softly to the floor.

Her wrist felt strangely cold now. Empty.

Her head lolled to the side.

The lamp flickered.

And then,

Darkness swallowed everything.

Her eyes closed.

S i l e n c e...

She jolted upright with a sharp gasp.

Her chest heaved. Sweat soaked her skin. Her hands flew to her wrist.

Unbroken.

Clean.

No blood.

No knife.

No stained dress.

She was in her bed.

Morning light spilled through the curtains.

Birds chirped outside like nothing had happened.

She pressed her palms to her face, shaking.

“A dream?!,” she breathed. “It was just a dream.”

Too real.

Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might break her ribs.

Then she noticed something.

Her bedside table.

There, next to her alarm clock, was a plate.

With apple peels.

And a knife.

Her breath stopped.

She hadn’t eaten an apple last night.

She lived ALONE.