Work Text:
Ever heard the saying “you’ll regret it halfway through?”
Well that’s exactly what’s happening to Amity.
Who was currently sitting on her bathroom floor with an empty bottle of antidepressants in her hand, breathing heavily. She was so exhausted, so tired of the pressure to be perfect. To be the top student. To be Amity Blight.
She never asked for this life, so when she got home she made the executive decision to end it. Slitting her wrists just didn’t cut it anymore and her mother was becoming more controlling as the days passed. But did she really want to die this way?
Sitting on her tiled bathroom floor, drool slowly seeping from her lips, her green hair in a messy bun. Amity stood up and glared at the reflection in the mirror.
It wasn’t Amity Blight. The young witch that commanded respect when she walked in a room, the girl who aced every test without breaking a sweat.
This was Mittens. The girl who spent every living second that she wasn’t studying or being chastised by her mother, wishing she was dead. Mittens was the person nobody knew except herself because everyone was kept at a distance. She couldn’t risk having anyone being that close again; not after Willow.
So Mittens sulked in her room with the door locked and a razor in hand. And as the beautiful dark-red liquid dripped from her thighs, she still wasn’t satisfied.
Why? Even after her skin burned when she showered or wore clothes that rubbed her wrists, she still wanted more.
The only way Mittens could truly be at peace was if she killed herself, but come on, on her bathroom floor? What a bitch way to die.
She stared into the mirror and suddenly earned back her will to live, but life really hates Amity, so as she took her scroll and tried to dial the suicide hotline with shaky hands— the pills started attacking her body full force.
Amity’s legs shook and she lost her balance. She fell and her scroll landed across the bathroom. Amity crawled towards it, “No, no, no, NO!” she whispered to herself and began to spasm.
Her vision went black and Amity accepted the fact that she was going to die alone on her cold bathroom floor. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Amity’s skull hit the hard floor too hard and fractured. She wasn’t found until 5AM the next morning by her sister and brother.
Blood surrounded her head and foam from her mouth soaked her shirt. And the orange pill bottle that started it all rolled near the door.
But Amity knew that if she could go back, she would’ve done it again.