The End

I look down into her huge green eyes, and they fill with tears. She's begging me not to leave, trying to convince me to stay, but I just can't. I know her and her daddy's life will be so much better without me. I ruined her father's life the day I met him, and I knew it then like I do now. I just couldn't resist his deep green eyes and amazing smile, I fell for him within seconds. But now I know that later that very same night a mistake was made. Two months afterward I had found out I was pregnant with Emily, and that I was pulling Matt into depression. I knew I shouldn't have risked it. I knew I shouldn't have gone to that concert. I knew I was going to regret it, but I figured I should at least spend my last night on earth with some horny kid from Gilman Street. But once again I was wrong, inside of a horny kid I found the sexiest punk rocker, who stole my heart with one glance. Matt had convinced me to try just a little bit longer and I just had to listen. Right before I about to give up on life, I got the baby news. Now, seven years later, my baby girl is trying to get me to stay. Down on her knees, crying into my legs, she's begging me to stay, but I just can't. It's just too much. It's because I love her and her daddy so, I just can't say. I can't bring her or Matt farther into depression. She seven years old, she shouldn't have to worry about coming home and seeing her own mother laying on the floor, bleeding again, or her daddy drinking an entire bottle of whiskey every night. She deserves so much better, and I know if I leave, Matt won't have to see me sad and Emily won't have a reason to cry at night. I know if I leave that their lives could and will get so much better. But right now I lay her down in bed, and tell that her daddy will be up in a second. I call down the stairs, into matt's music room and get my bag from the master bedroom. As I walk out the front door of our little home, I lay an envelope down on the coffee table. I walk down the street, and break into a run, when I hear Matt open the door and call my name. Days go by and I make it to Huston. I walk down a street, but get pushed to the side, up against a brick wall. I try to pull away, but my strength has disappeared from lack of food. I hear I raspy voice and feel dry, chapped lips run down the side of my neck. I try to scream for help, but he stops me, as he presses his lips against mine. In the pale moonlight I see a drunken, youngish man, with messy dark hair and sharp features. He slides his hands up into my shirt and presses me harder against the wall. I stumble as he yanks me into the alleyway beside us and he pushes me to the ground. I wake up to a teenage boy and his younger sister, poking me and I sit up abruptly. I look myself over and grimace at the bruises and scrapes that cover my nearly naked body. The boy asks me a lists questions, but I merely get up and walk to the nearest grocer. I attempt to act normal, as I slip a pad of paper, a pen, and a bottle of aspirin into my baggy jacket. As I start to walk out, a clerk yells at me and I break into a run. Once I make it to a little back alley, I write down whatever comes to mind and take pill after pill. With a bitter taste in my mouth from taking the meds dry, and the yellow pad of paper in my lap, I fall into a coma-like sleep where memories and colorful orbs fill my mind. As I drift into a blacken nothingness I hear a vaguely familiar male voice call my name.