That's it! I thought to myself. If God is putting me through all of this, then he must really want me dead! I run to the kitchen to find a note sitting on the counter. "More like working on your new girlfriend's lips," I quietly murmured to myself in anger. I fished through the drawers to find a sharp, clean knife. I started up to my room on the carpet-corvered stairs that my feet sank deeper into with each step. I locked my door with a loud click. I sat down down in my chair and looked at myself in the mirror one last time. My blonde hair up in a messy bun, no makeup, bruises along my arm. "It's time to stop my suffering," I thought aloud. The knife was inches away from my heart when I heard it.