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A Quick Death Preference
She always wanted a quick death. The kind of death that did not come with fuss.The kind of death that came with peace. She did not want a death that involved a hospital bed, no, she really hated hospital beds. She wanted a death that took you to the afterlife with undulated speed. She wanted a kind of death that involved injecting poison into one’s blood vessels or maybe the kind of death where a bullet is shot neatly in the head, between the eyes, swiftly to the heart. A gun shot that ensured she stayed dead and had no way of coming back. She also preferred the kind of death that made her bleed less. The kind of death where once she was gone, she could stay at the sidelines in the afterlife and watch her family mourn her in peace, not clean up her blood and shrink into shells of their selves due to the immense pain.

However, if she ever wanted a much slower death, she would have preferred dementia, the kind of death that made sure you could not remember anyone, the death that ate away your memories chip by chip. She rather go through pain knowing she knows no one, knowing her mental ability at memory recalling is fading away bit by tidbit alongside her life.

Maybe, this was why, as she sat down in her room, with the injection she had gotten through persistence,a lot of lies and not surprising, stealing, she felt sure of her decisions. She did not try to jump down from a building, there was a chance she would survive, too many good doctors in the world nowadays.She also did not stab herself in the stomach or slit her wrist, she would still survive and there is too much blood involved. She hated blood. So she went for the right option, poison. Fast working poison that did not make her death messy, just quick. The poison used on criminals by the government to bring an end to their tyranny according to the law.

She had doubts at first, committing suicide was not easy. She even began researching on suicidal attempts that worked ninety-nine percent of the time. She also browsed on comforting poems about death, poems that will be the soothing balm she needed to carry on this decision, this important decision of her life.

At times, her doubts came as a result of her family. She had a family who loved her and she reciprocated the love in a similar amount, if not too much. However, she had to go through with this her decision because her family, unfortunately, were the other half reason she was willing to take her life. They believed their actions were for her good. She wondered how they could liken their actions to that of good and how she was the only one that saw the actions as disgusting. Even with the injection in hand and the multiple times she had scrubbed her body, she still could not shake off the feeling to rush to the bathroom, turn on the hot water and scrape more dirt from her body. She still remembered how he came close to her, so close she could smell the breakfast he took earlier that day, she wanted to throw up but remained strong and unyielding. She felt contaminated from his single touch, let alone to get married to such a man, that would be as good as death, hence the reinforcement and assurance of her decision to die than living without being alive.

That day was one of her worst days but also the day the thought of suicide registered in her mind. The thought of ending her life once and for all than allowing another to end it for her. She always wanted a quick death and now after everything, she was going to get it.

© Ifeamareme Uchechi Favour

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