I’ve walked this hall a dozen times or more. I know what waits at the end of it.

Pain.

Pleasure.

Release. From my life. From my nightmares. From myself. From everything that is me, to everything that is not me.

I picked her on purpose. She knows what she’s doing. She knows how to bring someone to that point of feeling pain, and yet wanting more. She knows the safety word, and she stops the second you tell her.

But I also know that if she doesn’t hear it, she won’t stop. Not out of maliciousness, but just because she’s not used to someone not telling her when to stop.

Tonight is the night. Tonight, we’ll see if I chose correctly. After tonight, one way or another, she’ll never see me again.

Suicide by pleasure.