Nothing

She's nothing. She knows that. She ought to. Her mother's told her enough times. Her mother's beaten her enough times after a failed ballet class, or tripping over the shoes in the front hallway.

On her sixth birthday, her wish was that she had never been born, or that she could have the strength to kill herself, just so she wouldn't have to listen to her parent's fights or her mother's criticism.

She dreams of being able to float away into a great abyss, where there is nothing to feel.

She already feels like nothing, has no emotions because they hurt to bad. She just thinks that it is too bad that she isn't nothing.

What's the point? A point to go on? She isn't wanted. Her mother certainly wouldn't miss her.

She only wants her pain to end. An end. The end.

She thought it was over when her mother took over her body, but then Buffy had to go and put everything back the way it was. But her mother wasn't gone. She visited her every night in her sleep, telling her how much of a waste of space she was.

Amy's only wish for an end, and now it's there, in the pills in her hand, the glass of water beside her.

And now she's going to end.