As she lay there watching her blood flowing into the water in the bathtub, she wondered somewhat distantly if this time would be any different than the 125 other times she had tried to end her life. She had taken every precaution this time. She made sure anyone and everyone who would care enough to put two and two together and try to stop her was nowhere near her, because she had relocated. She had been careful not to even make eye contact with her new neighbors, so they could not see the pain in her eyes and become wary. She had never had a phone connected to ring and not be answered. She had three deadbolts that only opened with a key which she had hidden in the bottom of her closet under a pile of dirty clothes. The night latch was fastened.
Her quickly hazing mind, went back to the keys in the closet and a ghost of a smile momentarily lit her face making it pretty for a second. Why would she need to hide the keys to locks inside her apartment, if no one could get through the locks without the keys in the first place? If she had the energy, she would laugh over that one.
There was a slight tingly in her left butt cheek that was not pleasant, but she was too disconnected to do anything about it and it was only not pleasant. The pain in her wrists had stopped, so now there was just the drifting that came before unconsciousness. Her last thought as she floated off was, “I hope, this time.”