Running, looking down at her long, pale legs moving quickly. Her pace quickens as she nears the end; heart racing as her breathing hastens. For a split second, she felt free, like she was back at her hometown running on the gorgeous, hot and sandy beach. But after that split second, she’s back on that old, rundown track. She raced across the finish line, her face displaying disappointment. Knowing her friends and family were watching, she threw on a smile and shook George’s hand.

“Congratulations, Maria. 1st place again. How does it feel?” George said to her with a proud-looking smile on his roundish, tanned face.

She looked down, and time froze.

“Why me? Why can I not be happy that I was able to beat my competitors? Why can I not just appreciate what I have? Why do I always want more? Why does no one see how I feel? Why does no one try to help me? What did I ever do to deserve any of this?.” she screamed to the frozen manikins, as she fell to her knees, a tear starting to fall down her right cheek, just missing a barely noticeable freckle.

As the clocks started ticking away again, she looked back up and mustered up the fakest smile she could and told George, “It feels great! I can’t wait to run at regionals. I’m thankful for this opportunity to showcase my talent, and make my hometown proud.”

She shook George’s aged hand and accepted the ribbon while smiling, and waving at her mother who stood in the crowd clapping for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Maria went searching through her mother’s medicine cabinet looking for something, anything to end it all. She ended up finding a bottle of Cyanide, filled right to the brim.

Maria whispered to herself, “I’m sorry, mom,” as she started raising the bottle to her lips; tears streaming down her face, a note on her bed for her boyfriend for when he comes over at the usual time, a status on Facebook to let the world know why a life was being left behind.

“Maria?” She could her Nicholas calling for her, the bottle still raised to her dry, pink lips. She could hear the paper being picked up, his loud footsteps rushing over to the bathroom door, the loud knocks, the yelling so obviously mixed with tears.

The door busted open as she was about to consume the liquid. Nicholas knocked the bottle out of her hands as she started to swallow some of the liquid.

He took Maria into his arms as he dialed 911, tears streaming down both of their faces.

“911. What’s your emergency?”