My suicide note was taped to the fridge. I ran my stiff fingers over the blurred mass of letters and wondered if I could type anything. With that thought, I shambled to the bedroom and found a black square on the floor. I bent to touch the black thing and realized that it was indeed my laptop.
I wanted to write these things that were happening to me and so I tried my hand at it. Before I got started, I heard a car screech to a halt in my driveway followed by shouting. Owen's voice stood out above the others. I heard a women's voice, muffled but high pitched and something else. I thought the other voice must have come from another man. I stopped with the computer and sat it on my bed. I waited.
Something odd happened. It was as if a flower had bloomed within me. A sound came floating through the air landing on my ear. It made me smile a little. I listened closely to the sound; I liked it very much. I knew that word.
I heard it again, he said my name.
"Cassandra!" Owen yelled once more, right before he busted through my front door. Three voices flooded my ears and the ringing started again. I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. The sounds grew louder but more muffled. They bled together and sunk into my brain.
"Cassandra! Please baby, tell me you are here. Tell me that you are okay!" Owen pleaded from the living room. Other voices mumbled.
Footsteps thundered on the floor like huge cotton elephants. I grinded my teeth because the sounds were so hungry. My fingers had lost some of the stiffness, so I plugged them into my ears. I was hungry so I listened carefully to what was happening behind the door, because I was hungry. My stomach growled and I knew that I had killed myself because I was hungry. Being hungry meant hunger was hungry and I am hungry and I have to eat before I grow too hungry. I felt the hunger come near my hungry and so I hungered for the hungry to help me to hunger and be safely hungered in hungry. I was hungry.
My stomach growled very loudly. I stood, took my fingers from my ears and unlocked the door.
"Owen?" I stood in the hallway and watched the three figures standing before the refrigerator. My boyfriend, Owen was holding my suicide note and he wept. The other two, a tall black man and a really pretty oriental woman; they stared at me. Owen turned and took his first look at his dead girlfriend.
All I could think of was how hungry I really was. Everything would be okay, If I could just eat something.
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