Broken glass or broken mind? She stares at the shattered mug on the floor.
Had it slipped from her hands? Had it slipped just as it had slipped her mind to take her pills that morning?
The pills that kept her sane. The pills that kept her from hurting herself again.
She crouched nervously towards the shattered mug. The mug that once held her warm morning tea.
She picked up the sharpest shattered piece and let it drag across her wrist. She screamed.
But not with pain, but with sickening pleasure. The pain would set her free. The pain would set her free...