She once dreamt of her death.
Quick slash. Huge gash.
Her body fell limp to the flood…

Sinking into a darkened corner, she sat there… Shaking. The cold wrapping around her body like an unwelcoming blanket, twisting in and out of every curve her body produced.
She felt alone; too alone to describe the feeling that ached from her toes, to her fingertips.
Looking down at her hands, her fingers twisting around a blade, she placed them in her lap; the pale metal reflecting in her eyes.
“Stop” she called silently, helpless to the night as her hand rose to her neck, the blade begging to penetrate her soft skin. She tilted her head towards the heavens; where she was sure she wouldn’t go; as crimson tears of her despair leaked down her innocent cheeks.
Pain shot threw her body, as fast as a bullet… And as silent as a whisper. She cried.
But who wouldn’t.
No one was around to hear her despite cries for companionship. No one was around to hear her hand hit the cold wooden floor, the blade falling to her side, near her limp leg.
The blood flowed down her collarbone, staining her skin with her end.
No one was around to hear her die.