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Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop,

The lullaby in my ears is so loud, so suddenly, every other noise fades.

The room feels too loud, my heartbeat pounds in my ears as I drag the blade down in one slow move, the skin splits as blood starts oozing, it seeps outward like ink through paper.

It drips. It drips.

And the voice grows louder, heavier, and it feels like my ears are bleeding.

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.

I make another long, vertical cut unable to feel the sting.

The need, it claws, it chokes. It kills me and only the spreading of my blood like silk on the floor calms me.

I look one last time at myself—the golden hair, the sad smile, the dead green eyes—before my knees give out and I fall on the floor with a thud.

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,

“You’re my little gold, one that outshines every diamond.”

Sergei’s voice echoes through my mind, splitting me cleanly in two.

I’m suspended between the unfamiliar relief of finally being free and the heartbreaking grief of knowing I’ll never see him again.

How do I tell him I don’t see gold seeping out of me? It’s hot tar that trickles, choking the air and trapping anything it touches.

Hidden from the light, I’m darkness, and I don’t shine when I’m meant to stain.

A knock on the door isn’t enough to rattle me as I lift my bleeding hand to hold the scalpel and drag it on the right wrist unmethodically.

“Ela?” The man growls before knocking again but I’m far too gone to respond.

I hope Sergei knows he’s enough, I’m the one who isn’t. I love you, Sergei.

“I will die for you, Sergei. I will kill for you.”

“Elara!” He bangs on the door again and then it thuds and creaks before the hinges loosen and it falls on the ground right before me.

And down will come baby…cradle and all.

He stands there with wide black eyes as he contemplates taking a step in my direction, but too afraid to step in the pool of my blood.

My lips tilt upwards in a slow satisfied smile as he sees the horror that I truly am.

“Fucking bitch.” He panics and retreats, running away as the blood follows him, trickling down the crack of the tiles.

My demons.

They’re finally leaving me.

My head throbs, but I tell myself it’s going to be okay. I just hope Sergei is okay too.

Because I won’t be seeing him again. And I think this regret will be the only thing I carry with me into the afterlife.

My head rests on the wall as the blade drops from my unfeeling fingers.

No one is coming for me.