TW: Suicide, Drowning
The lightbulbs are emitting the same light that they always are. After so many years of living here, it’s only natural that the walls are not perfectly white, and combined with the off-white of the counter, it’s not a wonder that it’s tinted yellow.
The shelf above the toilet is dusty and quite possibly hasn’t been cleaned in years. The shower curtains are almost gross, not visibly but at the bottoms, you can see the grime so it’s a mental grossness.
The shower curtains are open. Having them shut feels like a trap. She always has the curtains open when she uses the bathtub instead of showering. It doesn’t matter how light the shower curtain is, it casts a shadow that makes privacy feel like a prison.
The tub feels impossibly deep, the water rises around her, she is sinking in the ocean, falling to the depths below. She cannot breathe and it is not like slipping into sleep. It’s not easy, not like slipping into the water. It is not peaceful.
It is not meant to be.
What it is, is violent. It is thrashing and the impression of screaming although there is no air to scream with. Well, it is less thrashing and more like spasms, she wouldn’t want to splash water everywhere, now would she. It’s only a bathtub, she doesn’t have enough room to thrash without throwing herself out of the water.
It is struggling to control the instincts that try to drive her out of the shallow water. It is almost disappointing that she wins so easily. It almost takes the worth out of it.
It’s like fighting. It’s not fun to give up.