Prologue

I looked down at the bottle of pills in my trembling hands, tears streaming down my cheeks like a river of despair. This is it. I’m finally going to do it. I’m going to end my life. It felt like a heavy fog had settled over me, suffocating and relentless. No one would miss me; in fact, my family would probably be better off without me. The thought echoed in my mind, a cruel whisper that filled me with a hollow sense of relief.

With shaking hands, I opened the bottle and poured the pills into my mouth, their bitter taste mingling with the salt of my tears. I chewed them frantically, desperate for the pain to end, and washed them down with water until I had emptied the entire bottle of antidepressants. The world around me blurred as I tossed the empty container aside, feeling a deep ache in my chest as I leaned against the wall, hugging my knees tightly. I gazed up at the ceiling, feeling utterly detached from reality.

“I’m ready,” I muttered to myself, each word laced with a profound sense of finality. My insides felt like they were on fire, an unbearable turmoil that made it hard to breathe. Every breath was a reminder of my suffocating sorrow.

Suddenly, the door burst open, shattering the silence like glass. Someone rushed toward me—my mother.

“Royal!” she cried out, her voice breaking through the haze of despair that enveloped me. But it felt distant, as if she were calling to me from behind an impenetrable barrier. “What have you done?” The panic in her voice pierced through my fog for just a moment.

I smiled weakly through my tears, but it was a smile tinged with sadness—a farewell to the pain that had consumed me for so long. As darkness began to close in around me and my eyes grew heavy, I let them flutter shut. I could hear her shouting and crying, but it felt like background noise fading into oblivion.

Finally, I allowed myself to drift away into a forever sleep—free from sorrow and heartache. In that moment, I believed I was finally gone.