She thought, I’m never going to get out of here. They’re lying to me. They can’t cure me.
She could not face the reality that other personalities were living inside of her....
Because of them, people had been murdered, families destroyed. Why me, God? She began to weep.
What did I ever do to you? She sat down on the bed and thought, I can’t go on like this.
There’s only one way to end it. I have to do it now. She got up and walked around the small room, looking for something sharp.
There was nothing. The rooms had been carefully designed so that there was nothing in them that would allow the patients to harm themselves.
As her eyes darted around the room, she saw the paints and canvas and paintbrushes and walked over to them.
The handles of the paintbrushes were wooden. Ashley snapped one in half, exposing sharp, jagged edges.
Slowly, she took the sharp edge and placed it on her wrist. In one fast, deep movement, she cut into her veins
and her blood began to pour out. Ashley placed the jagged edge on her other wrist and repeated the movement.
She stood there, watching the blood stain the carpet. She began to feel cold.
She dropped to the floor and curled up into a fetal position. And then the room went dark.
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