Shatter

​Broken. Shattered. The glass… it shimmered in the fragments of light peeking through the blinds.
The floor, scattered with broken pieces.
One fragment – the size of her hand – fit so well – came to a point. A tempting, sharp point.
It pressed perfectly against her wrist.
A nearly straight, vertical slice.
Everything wet… her jeans… her feet… drenched.
Dark… peaceful…
… she couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

The picture frame lay shattered. The face… smiling.
Bright eyes twinkled at her lifeless form.

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