I have my four-poster bed curtains, that I can hang up on the ceiling and slip my head into the noose. I have my balcony set up on the highest(5th) level of this pristine, perfect mansion. I have the unattended kitchen at midnight where I always seek refuge in for food to binge on when I need it; but this time I could use the array of kitchen knives to slit my wrist, my throat, my dreams, my life. There's my dad's armory where he's been so busy lately he's forgotten to polish his guns and swords like he used to everyday, where he's been so busy lately he polishes only himself now.
But I am a coward. Which is one reason why I had decided to not end my worthless life with instant killings but with a long harsh surviving journey instead. All I have on is my dad's favorite coat, my favorite outfit and my mother's fucking pearls. There is no use for me in this world, I might as well run away.