A Fictional Autobiography

“I’m done.” She whispered. “I AM DONE !”

The words pierced the two people that she was with. Her tone was icy, hard. She shivered in the bitter night and turned from their sight. No tears fell from her eyes, no she had shed enough tears for them already. With her back turned to them she spoke, quiet enough that it was a whisper but loud enough that the two could here her without straining. “I wish you the best, but I’m done.”

With that she turned and got into her car driving out of that driveway for the last time. She had finally done it, she had finally left behind what had held her down, what had kept her, held her, bound her.

As she drove away she realized that she had no where to go. She had told her mother that she wouldn’t be home until nine. She looked at the glowing green numbers, it was only six. If she went home now her mother would ask too many questions. So without any idea the black haired girl switched the cd to her favorite track and let her heart lead her to where she was supposed to be.

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