I was at my lowest. I had no one to turn to, I had dropped out of school because, let’s face it, I was going to fail anyway. My only chance at a job was a gas station cashier. So I scheduled it.

My suicide.

I didn’t plan on making a big deal out of it. I didn’t plan on preparing for it or setting up some elaborate off-yourself-here station. I just wanted to do it.

I did, however, try to pay my dues. I’ve been selfish all my life, never caring for anyone but myself. So I wanted to go out with a bang, do something… uncharacteristic.

I signed up to be an organ donor. I figured since I couldn’t be useful alive, I’d be useful dead. It kind of changed something in me. It made me think I was a good person, and that was enough for me.

Eventually the day came. I chose the classic slit-wrists-in-the-bathtub. The more pain the better. It’s what I deserve after all.

Oh, yeah, it was so painful. Every cut sent beautiful rivulets down my arms. The water formed shapes and images I could never dream of. It was amazing. And my head felt so heavy. And my eyes were so tired. And I knew if I closed my eyes I’d never wake up again and it was kind of… scary. I want this, though.

Right?

But I didn’t have time to think. I was already on my path to death, and he was waiting with open arms. So I closed my eyes and let him take me.

…

When I woke up, I didn’t know what to think. Am I dead? Was it all just a dream? But it felt so real. I must be in heaven, or maybe hell.

I could feel the touch of cold metal beneath my hands. The room I was in was empty, the walls boring and beige. I tried to lift my hand but it was hard. Any movement I could make was slow and sluggish. All I could do was look around and wait. A door opened, almost silent except for the quiet screech of rusty hinges. It sent chills down my spine.

A man leaned over me, his face hidden by shadows.

“Still alive? Not a problem, you’re too drugged up to do anything.” He snorted and turned away towards what looked like a rack of knives and scalpels and some more… malicious tools. My heart started to beat faster, I could feel my breath quickening. I knew why I was here.

“I know those old geezers at the hospital are strict and all with their fancy contracts and release forms,” he muttered, turning around to face me. He picked up my hand and examined it, ”but my contract doesn’t limit me to just internal organs…” he smiled and slammed my hand down on the table I was laying on, crushing my bones beneath his weight. All I could do was grunt in pain. Tears appeared in the corners of my eyes.

He laughed, watching me struggle. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun here. I can tell.”