Page 13 of Insta-Family (Forbidden Descendants 3)

God, nothing sounded nice right now.

Dark, blessed, beautiful nothing.

The idea was so enticing that I surged to my feet, ready to implement my journey into nothingness immediately before I could fully think it through and possibly change my mind.

The intoxicating thrill of determination flooded my veins.

A gun would be the best choice. So quick it’d be painless and instant. But I didn’t own a firearm, so my mind wandered on to other possibilities.

Pills would take too long, and I wasn’t sure I had anything effective enough on hand in my medicine cabinet, anyway.

Cutting seemed like it’d be painful and messy and take too long too. And pain was what I was trying to avoid here. Besides, I wanted something I couldn’t change my mind and back out of once I started it. And I could still call for help if I was just sitting there, bleeding out.

It’d have to be by hanging, then. There’d be no way to stop that once it got underway.

Yes. That was it. I’d hang myself.

Racking my brain for something I could use for the rope, I rushed down the hall toward the garage. When I could find nothing even vaguely rope-like, I cursed and shoved over a metal shelf full of old rags and oil containers. It crashed to the floor with a resounding clang, and as an old tent that was bundled in its carrying bag rolled across the floor, I focused on the pull cord that kept it closed. Then I attacked, surging toward it and snagging it from its bag.

The damn thing was too short, but maybe I had similar cords around the house I could tie together to make a good-enough noose to get the job done.

I returned inside and opened a closet, only to focus on the vacuum cleaner...or more specifically on the plug-in cord connected to the vacuum cleaner. Now that would make the perfect rope.

So...where to do it?

The front room was the most optimal place. With a vaulted ceiling, it had these large wooden cross beams perfect for my needs. Dragging in a kitchen chair from the dining room, I stood on the seat and tied the cord onto the high beam. Once it was in place, I heaved out a breath, wondering what needed to be done next.

But I think I had everything covered. I was here, prepared to proceed.

Realizing what the final step was, I swallowed and glanced around the living room to say my goodbyes.

Was this really it, then? I was just going to do this?

I blinked, my gaze focusing sharply. Duke and I hadn’t changed the house much since Mom and Dad had passed, so we still had the same furniture as when we’d been kids. The four of us had camped out on the couch almost every Saturday evening for movie night. We rarely agreed on what to watch so we always seemed to settle on superhero movies.

Damn, I thought. But how in the hell had it come to this?

My gaze landed on the pictures on the wall. Most were family portraits Mom had hung over the years. There were toothless grade school shots of both me and Duke, and more, continuing through to our senior year.

Across the room, Mom and Dad’s wedding portrait was surrounded by more pictures of the family.

Of memories.

Promise me, Duke’s voice echoed through my head, stirring up another memory. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, my eyes watering. I didn’t want to remain in this world without them—there was nothing here for me—but I’d promised.

I’d told him I’d be okay.

But I wasn’t, and I didn’t want to keep the promise. I couldn’t.

It was too hard.

Except dammit, I’d never broken a promise to Duke before.

Why the hell had he made me swear such an impossible thing? I didn’t want to stay. There was no reason for me to remain here and suffer. No family or people who—

A knock on the front door had me jumping so hard, I nearly tumbled off the chair.

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