Moana finally drank the poison.
She waited for her life to end in agony. She had even written a letter on a piece of paper addressed to Sean.
One minute.
Three minutes.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Her heart was pounding wildly.
"Why hasn't it taken effect yet?"
Moana sat on the floor of her dorm room for a long time. The empty glass was still clutched in her hand like an object that had lost its meaning. Her breath rose and fell irregularly, not because of the poison's effects, but because her own thoughts were beginning to unravel.
She had gone that far, had chosen an end, but her body refused to cooperate. All that remained was the silence of that cramped room and the sounds of life from outside, continuing as if nothing had happened.
She stared at her own hands, then let out a small, silent laugh. Everything she had planned had crumbled even before it had truly begun.
