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Alone. So alone. Dark, cold, and alone.
The blackness swirls around me as I look around, attempting to sharpen my senses and figure out where I am. And yet, still nothing.
Suddenly, I feel a strong wind blowing past me, whipping my hair against my face. Through the darkness, I am carried by the wind, until finally it dies down.
Slowly, the blackness fades into light, and I see a room. The walls are white, and there are people sitting in chairs around a bed.
Wait. Are those... my parents?! I call out to them, but it seems they cannot hear me. They do not even turn around for a moment to look at me. Tears coming to my eyes, I walk closer to them.
My eyes widen as I look over my mother's shoulder to the bed they are sitting next to. Is that... is that me?!?!
I hear my father say softly, "Maya Angela Sherman... we love you...".
That's my name!! What's going on?!
I reach out to comfort him, but my hand goes right through his shoulder. What is happening?!?!
Suddenly, the trace of a memory comes back to me. The last memory I have before the darkness. There was something silver... a knife, it looks like. I close my eyes to see the image of the memory more clearly.
Yes, a knife. I was holding a knife. And I was crying. Sobbing, more like. Tears pouring down my cheeks as I held the knife.
The last thing I remember was saying, "I wish I could say goodbye, but it's too late for me now."
Suicide.
I committed suicide.
What a fool I was to do such a thing! How could I do this to my parents, my friends?!?! How could I have been so ignorant?!
Tears falling freely from my eyes now, I watch as my parents say their last goodbyes to the other me - the real me - the me that they see.
"Why," I whisper to myself, "why was I so foolish?!" But it is too late now. I made the wrong decision. And it cannot be fixed. It's too late.