The water is colder than I expected.
I always thought it would feel like sweet relief, like slipping into a dream where the pain doesn’t follow. But it doesn’t. The chill bites at my skin, sharp and unrelenting, as I sink deeper.
My hand presses against my stomach, where the wound burns like a brand. The blood seeps through my fingers, swirling in the water like ink spilled on parchment. It’s strange how something so violent can look so beautiful.
I don’t fight it.
Above me, the villa’s lights shimmer through the water I admired just hours ago, now warped into grotesque shapes. The infinity pool really does look infinite from this angle, the edge disappearing into nothingness.
A shadow moves at the periphery.
Doesn’t matter.
The garden beyond the glass is still visible those manicured hedges, and the Malibu palm trees
My lungs scream for air, but I don’t give it to them.
Let it be quick.
Let it

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