Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of the characters.
A/N: Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors, as I do not have a Beta.
Also, I am not under circumstances encouraging self harm/suicide. No one should ever do that. If you feel you want to, you need to go and talk to someone and get help. Because no matter what help is always there and things can always get better, you just have to let people in.
She had become filled with nothing but pain and depression and it was taking over her. She had succumb to nothing but a body that harboured years or pain, she had succumb to the desires that she told her self she would no longer indulge in - because in the end it made the situation no better, but at this point she couldn't care less.
She had convinced herself she was so far beyond help and that nothing would make any of her pain demise, she reasoned with herself that if she couldn't get any better, she couldn't get any worse... so why not just do it? That was her faulty reasoning behind it all as she picked up the delicate blade that shone under the dim lights of her living room. She looked at the old scars on her arm - they were vicious. She slowly drew the blade across her soft skin and watched the blood from her cut trickle down her arm. She drew the blade again over her skin, each slash of her blade was getting faster and more desperate. Eventually there was nothing but a bloody arm and no more room left.
It just wasn't enough though, it wasn't enough. She was angry - she was still a body harbouring pain, no amount of cutting could change that, no amount of anything could change that, could it? That was when her eyes drifted to her gun sitting on the coffee table in front of her. She reached over and picked it up. She held her gun every day, but it felt different this time. Perhaps that was because it was her own life in her own hands this time. She put the gun to her head.
Her life was so delicate, she could pull the trigger right now and end it all.