Clinton Green, 28 Jun '12
He started running the bath and slowly began to strip, he winced from the movements. When he was finished he stood naked in front of the mirror and tried to comb what was left of his graying hair. His eyes drifted down to his torso and he studied his old diseased body, sores and marks were scattered in random formations. He picked up the razor and started shaving; tears streaked his face as he stared at his broken reflection. He wiped his face and gave the mirror one final stare. He reached into the brown bag and retrieved the pills he had bought. He went through the various boxes and shoved as many pills and capsules as he could into his mouth. He felt the bitter tastes in his mouth and swallowed, and then he took some more and more, until there were no more. He stopped the bath water and entered the warm pool that would be his grave, hot liquid shot through the curves of his calloused hands and he started to relax. His body sank as far as it could in the shallow pool. He stared at the ceiling and remembered being here in the bath with Rebecca, holding her close to him never thinking she would ever be taken from him. His vision began to blur, his breathing drifted away and his head began to slump further into the warm water. His eyes closed and his tears mixed with the water. He couldn’t see anymore, he didn’t need to, all he did was fall, he fell and fell into deep tranquillity and finally he smiled mouthing one last word that sounded like “Becca”.