Chapter 66

April sensed a presence in the room that made her uncomfortable. The darkness was cloaked in heaviness; the air thick and musty.

Had demons come to take her to hell? If they had, she deserved it. She had nobody to blame but herself. Like all the other decisions in her life, taking the pills had probably been a mistake. But even though she knew it was wrong, she couldn’t push out the voice in her head that kept telling her she should have done it a long time ago. The voice that kept telling her she was no one.

A strong cramp hit her stomach and she squeezed her eyes shut. It wouldn’t be long now. No more nightmares, no more memories, no more pain.

April looked at the Bible on her nightstand. Some people thought suicide was an unforgivable sin. But what did she believe? Was suicide like murder? She released the empty bottle from her hand and began to cry. It was a little too late to ask those questions. She had taken all her sleeping pills.

God would forgive her. God understood her pain.

Her eyelids were so heavy. She was slipping away now. No more filthy men. No more doctors, and no more lies.

She felt a sharp pain in her stomach and then a rush of nausea. She should have eaten before she took the pills. The pain came again and she doubled over in the bed. Vomit rose in her throat and she began to gag.

“No,” she screamed in her mind. If I throw up, I won’t die.

You have to make things right.

Make things right? The lies . . . not just her rapist’s, but Samaria’s lie and her lie. Jonah hadn’t hurt her. He’d been her friend, a mentor, a father. And she’d stabbed him in the back. Sitting up on the side of the bed wasn’t helping. She clutched her stomach as another sharp pain ripped through her abdomen.

Make things right.

“I have to do the right thing,” she whispered.

April stood. The room began to spin, and then she fell back down on the bed.

“It’s too late,” was the last thing she muttered before the blackness closed in around her.