She rubbed the condensation from the window and looked out. It was an overcast day, perfect for what she planned to do.
Today was going to be the last day of her pathetic life. No more bullying at school. No more self-recrimination and self-hate. No more pain. No more love. Love–it was what Josh, her half-brother called it when they were doing it in her room or his while everyone else was sleeping or out. She called it wrong because the Bible said that it was sinful for blood relatives to have relations with each other. Yet, even though it made her feel dirty, she continued to let Josh “love” her because it was better than feeling rejected or neglected. For two years, she believed that love, even the wrong kind was better than none, but not today. Today, she was going to be free of it.
They found her dead, an empty pill bottle on the bed beside her. She was only seventeen. A week later, nineteen year old Josh took his life.