She remembered all the pain and sorrow. All those lost and broken souls left to wander in agony. Confused and blood-hungry.
Oh, she could remember them all. Every face; smiling and bright, only to be contorted in misery. Every voice; jingling gentle like a bell or shrieking like a well-worn guitar, slipping to hysterical broken words and hoarse groaning, throats spent from screaming. Every name; spoken in gentle remembrance in the dead of night, a prayer for peace, and a threat for silence.
How could she forget? Not that she hadn’t given it her best try.
- She’d pumped herself full of alcohol.
(Well, at least I can still get drunk, she’d thought, staring up into the blurred night sky, the moon a ball of swirling white fuzz. Blinking slowly, until between one blink and the next she found the sun burning into her gaze.
She’d frightened an old grimy man riffling through her pockets, very surprised when she moved. He’d run after casting a final frantic look about the dozens of empty bottles and a lack of other bodies.)
- She’d run her car into a mountain.
(It had been a nice car, she’d thought, looking back. She’d gotten one with a powerful engine, a fast and flashy thing that would crumple nicely, she didn’t remember the brand, or what she’d paid.
The feel of the wind pulling at her hair, whipping across her skin had been interesting. And going so fast the word blurred and time seemed to slow had been the closest to freedom she’d ever felt. She almost wished she’d had more time before that final bang crash, metal screeching in her ears as the car was crushed.
It took her nearly two days to claw out from the wreckage.)
- Jumped off a highrise.
(It hadn’t been so bad. The day had been nice, the sun just peeking over the horizon, painting violent strokes across the sky. She was always so poetic in these trips, standing just at the (figurative and literal) edge. Falling seemed just like flying, the wind rushing past roaring in her ears, she’d wished for wings as she fell, and for a moment, thought maybe an eternity like this wouldn’t be so bad. The wind in her hair, her cares left on the earth below.
Then she hit the ground, white lighting overtaking her being as pain beyond pain rushed across her body in waves, white hot and piercing cold and unimaginably terrible.)
- Tried drowning herself in a lake.
(Not her best idea, looking back. While she hadn’t minded redoing the other options, drowning; lungs filling with water so cold it burned, limbs thrashing against fluid that seemed to grow stronger the longer she stayed under.
She hadnt even bothered with the men who’d dragged her sorry cold and bloated self out of the water, only trudged silently up the surf, down the hot sand and down the street where she ordered a taxi from a payphone.)
- Sliced open her veins and watched her blood drain.
(This one hadn’t been so terrible, it was calm, slow, like falling into a dreamless sleep. It helped that she’d liked the color red after her vision blurred and all she could see was the color. Her bathtub was very comfortable to sleep in.
Until she awoke again, clothes drenched and sticky, legs nearly glued to the previously white porcelain with all that dried crimson. She’d had to burn those clothes, and had spent the entire time standing too close to the flames, breathing in smoke as she glared at her unmarked arms. )
- Put a bullet through her brain.
(She may have been losing her mind at that point. Of course, who wouldn’t be after so many attempts. She’d been drinking, not really drunk, when the thought came. She’d went deep into her house, sat in the middle of the carpet, and under the moonlight took her revolver and placed the cool metal against the side of her head, and pulled the trigger.
She doens;t remember what happened after the defening bang, ony that when she opened her eyes the sun was shinning down on her prone form. She;d wept for a time before rising and cleaning the mess.)
- Threw herself into a pit of venomous snakes.
(Crazy was her new norm apparently. She wasn’t even sure why she was trying at this point, other than apparently discovering you can get pretty creative when imagining your own death.
The feeling of scales across her skin had been pleasant at least, after they’d finished covering almost every inch of her skin in venom-filled fang marks. Poison burns and freezes in confusing consuming waves apparently. She even took one home after, he made a good pet for a while.)
- Took a knife and carved out her own heart.
(It was the only thing she hadn’t tried, she’d rationalized to herself, lifting her favored hunting knife. It supposedly kills most supernatural things? And that was the final vague rational thought she’d had before pressing the knife deep into her bare chest as she leant against her tub (she wasn’t risking ruining another outfit, she liked the one she was wearing dammit).
There isn’t a word in any language to properly explain the agony she endured as she cut, still managing the cut a pretty good circle despite how badly she was shaking, how she stopped being able to see past the tears, white flashes of pain, and the black creeping across her vision.
Waking up again was a different and far worse Hell than any being could possibly imagine.)
After that she just… stopped. Gave up running from the ghosts of her past, the haunting faces she watched be buried beneath the uncaring earth. She’d never escape her own torment of living anyway, and besides, sometimes the terrible haunting company was better than the silence.
So now she spends her nights sitting a graveyard, the moon hanging overhead as her only witness, leaning back against a worn tombstone.
(A tombstone that should have been hers.)
She breathes out, blurred vision watching the smoke run from her lips.
“Immortality sucks.” She mutters, voice trembling. She chuckles, harsh jagged tones descending into choking sobs. “Wish they’d told me that in the beginning.” She barks, sniffing and licking the salt from her cool and cracked lips.
And with another cloud of breath, she surrenders to her bitter eternity.