Drowning.

She considered all the possibilities- you could go with the typical gun to the head, but that'd leave a mess for someone else to clean, an irreplaceable image she wasn't selfish enough to give to someone else. It was also too easy. She wanted the agonizing pain of killing yourself to be felt. She wanted to die slowly for the things she had done. She could do a suicide murder and go kill the long line of people who screwed her over. But then she'd only be known as the girl who killed her mother and ended her own life along with it. And so in the end, she went with drowning herself. She tied a brick to her feet and jumped for the final time into the Tennessee River, awaiting the burning and the collapsed lungs and the ending that would later be known as her. But what she noticed made her laugh. The pain of not breathing didn't come close to the pain that breathing brought. So as she inhaled the bittersweet water, she, for once in her life, refused to be silent and burst into a gleaming, ear-to-ear smile that could only be provoked by the knowledge that her suffering was just seconds away from being over. She simultaneously laughed and choked, thinking how funny it was that the first and only time she ever felt alive is when she was nearly dead. Maybe that was why she felt so alive, because she wanted her last seconds to be better than her last years. But somehow in the midst of dying and laughing and being renewed, she found that being underwater like this made no difference because she'd been suffocating in her own tears and sorrow even more when she was up there, out of the water. At least down here, it was all real. No more pretending.

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