Maria Eduarda
Honestly, I don't know how I managed to get home. I enter silently so as not to wake my sister, and I end up moaning when I accidentally bump into the banister and grit my teeth to keep from screaming, only letting out a small groan of pain.
I go up the stairs, or rather, I go crawling, and at last I manage to reach my room. I close the door and don't turn on the light—I was afraid to see how hurt I was.
I'm walking very slowly, and each step I took was torture, and I always leaned against the wall until I reached my little table, where I had a notebook and also some books.
I didn't always need to turn on the light in the room, since I had a lamp. As soon as I can reach it, I light it up and see my bruised fingers. I feel the tears already flowing. I open the diary I got from my sister and start writing. Even writing hurts. I start to cry softly.
“Dear Diary, Today was my 18th birthday!”
"I don't deserve to live."
“I was raped and drugged, and I decided I must die today!”
All I can write is this, and I leave the diary. I open the drawer, where there was a small pocketknife. I take it and head to the bathroom. When I get there, I turn on the lights. The tears come down more and more and I can't control it. I was embarrassed, in pain, angry.
My bruised face, my hair disheveled and my clothes torn. I was already aware of one thing: I wouldn't know how to live with this nightmare, and the only thing I had to do was kill myself, it was the only solution.
I bring the stiletto straight to my wrist and start to run the blade. I feel the sting of the cut and I can already see the blood coming out. I do the same thing on the other one, and before long I was falling to the floor. Just before doing so, I hear my sister scream:
“Forgive me…” I beg, and I finally feel death coming and I surrender to it in peace, knowing that nothing in the world would harm me.