For Susan, it was no longer a question of if she would kill herself. All she had left to answer were the nagging questions of when, where, and how. She’d spent a lot of time considering her options, but all of them had drawbacks.

She owned a gun for self-protection, but that would be messy. She abhorred messes. Cutting her wrists? The voices in her head liked that, but she cried when she got paper cuts, so she doubted she would be able to slice herself with a razor.

She’d ruled out hanging. She didn’t want to die ugly. Abruptly changing lanes into oncoming traffic? That seemed likely to cause disfigurement, not to mention how unfair it would be to the other driver.

She’d considered pills. For a time they had seemed perfect. There were plenty of over-the-counter medicines that would do the trick in sufficient quantities, from plain old aspirin to sleeping pills. They were easy to get and relatively inexpensive, but with her queasy stomach, she might not keep enough pills down long enough to finish the job.

She didn’t want the trauma or the drama of a failed attempt. She didn’t want to spend years in a mental hospital like her mother had.

…more