I dig my nails deeper and rake them across the skin. These are my last moments. I have to make them count.

I’m placing a lot of faith in the procedural dramas I love to watch. Loved to watch? Whatever. They’ll do it. They’ll scrape under my nails and I know they’ll find you.

So I dig. And I claw. And I pack as much DNA into my nail beds as I can.

My lungs start to burn from neglect. My eyes bulge in their sockets and I struggle to blink. My heartbeat has grown so weak, I can’t even feel the thump of it in my chest.

I want to be proud of staying clearheaded enough to ensure that you’ll be caught. But, as coal colored circles make their way toward my pupils, it isn’t pride I feel. It’s complete and utter sadness for the life I won’t have the chance to live.

Damn, I think.

Then the darkness overtakes me.

She digs her nails even deeper into my arms. The burning is going to go away, but I doubt the scars ever will.

Choking wasn’t the best choice, but it wasn’t like I’d planned it out. This was a long time coming, so when the opportunity presented itself, I had to take it.

Ugh, she won’t stop digging. I wish she would die already.

Her perfect face is flushed in various shades of red. It’s pointless for her mouth to be open so wide. She can’t scream…or breathe. I swear I can see the light dimming in her eyes.

This is her fault. She ruined our relationship. She’d been my perfect little baby. I raised her alone and we’d been so close. Then, she became a woman, became my competition. Men used to look at me the way they look at her. I…I think she’s gone.

Damn, I think.

This doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would.