Author's Notes:

Trigger Warning on this chapter.

You rise from your seat at the table. With five steps, you move to the kitchen counter. You eye the toaster, sitting in front of you. Who would have thought the device that supplied you breakfast would be the same device that would finally bring you peace?

You smile as you unplug it from the wall and turn away.

The staircase lies in front of you, as you take careful steps upstairs. With every step, you can feel the weight lift from your shoulders. Nothing matters anymore. Success or failure means nothing. Happiness and depression are only concepts. There is no such thing as family. A friend is a word with no definition.

You feel your chest become numb, as you feel as if you're watching yourself perform the actions. Almost as if you can't give yourself credit for doing the one right thing you've done with your life. You reach the top of the stairs and move into the bathroom. Setting the toaster on the counter, you move to your bathtub and draw water. You drop the stopper and the water begins to fill the tub.

Moving back to the bathroom counter, you plug the toaster in the socket. Then, something catches your eye in the mirror. It's you. Or rather, it's the you that you want to be. Look at him. So handsome, so confident, so successful. He knows exactly what he's about to do, and has zero qualms about it. You wonder what it would be like to talk for a day with the man in the mirror, and maybe learn something from him.

Maybe he could tell you how to be happy. Everyone else doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Oh well. It's not your problem anymore.

You turn back to the tub, almost overflowing with water. Moving to the tub, you stop the water. Grabbing the toaster off the counter, you take one step inside the tub, then another. Your clothes cling to your wet legs as you then kneel down into the tub. You set the toaster on the floor and fully submurse yourself for a second.

Then, rising from the water, baptized, you look back to your liberation. Taking the device in your slippery hands, you rise to your feet. You pop down the lever, just like you would any other morning to make breakfast.

Then, you take a deep breath.

It only hurts for about 15 seconds.