always working on a suicide note (a prologue)

they would come out from the dark and get her. they would come out from the dark and get her to do the thing she loved(hated) the most. they would come out and find her hands and pin them to the cold, white porcelin. they would pollute her sharp mind. they would bounce their fingers against hollowing rib bones. they would find those bones that nearly always hid behind the soft nurture of her breast and they would tap them in unison to a speeding heart until her throat would well, and her tongue would burn. the would come out from the dark and take her as sure as the night might come, or the day might burst like hope on her cracked lips. they would come and take the smallest portion they could get and it would never be enough; leaving only promise of more.