WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGER CONTENT FOR SOME.
I lift my shaky hand up and watch when my nails slowly grow. I grit my teeth and take several deep breaths. Did I ever think I would be killing myself like this? No. But there's only one way to figure it out. I lift my nails and quickly slice my neck on the side.
I grit my teeth as I feel hot, black blood quickly flowing from my neck. My nails quickly shrink back down as my world tilts. I quickly drop to my knees, forcing myself to keep my hands down. The blood smells... sweet. It's like my own body wants to lift my hand and press it against the wound.
To stop the bleeding and to begin healing but I don't. My entire body grows heavier as my blood soaks me and the ground under me. When my vision starts to darken, I slowly lower myself down into the grass.
