The silence after Stefan left was worse than any scream.
I sat on the edge of the bed for hours, staring at the letter until the words blurred into meaningless shapes. The baby kicked relentlessly, as if trying to remind me I wasn't alone. But I felt nothing but hollow.
Empty.
Worthless.
Elena's face haunted me. Stefan's arms around her. The way he always ran to comfort her. The way he still kept her in his life even after I begged him not to. Even after I told him what it would do to me.
I was a burden. A pregnant, unstable, second-choice witch who couldn't even keep her own man from thinking about his ex.
The hatred for Elena had consumed every part of me. And now it had poisoned my love for Stefan too.
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I don't remember standing up.
I only remember the drawer in the kitchen. The sharp kitchen knife. The way my hand shook as I pressed the blade against my left wrist.
The first cut was shallow. Just enough to feel something.
Blood welled up instantly, warm and red. I watched it drip onto the floor with detached fascination.
She wins again.
I cut deeper the second time. Then again. And again. Long, deliberate slices along my forearm and the palm of my hand. The pain was sharp, grounding. For a few seconds it drowned out the screaming in my head.
Tears streamed down my face as I kept going, blood running down my fingers, pooling on the counter.
"Why am I never enough?" I whispered brokenly. "Why does she always win?"
The baby kicked hard, almost violently. I sobbed louder, pressing my bleeding hand to my belly.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, baby. Mommy's so broken."
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I stumbled to the bathroom, leaving bloody footprints behind me.
The bottle of sleeping pills I'd bought weeks ago for the insomnia sat in the cabinet. I poured a handful into my palm — then another. Then the rest of the bottle.
I stared at the pills through blurred vision.
Endit.
No more pain.
No more watching Stefan choose her.
No more hating Elena so much it destroys me.
I swallowed them dry, choking them down one handful after another. The taste was bitter. My throat burned. I kept going until the bottle was empty.
Then I slid down the bathroom wall, blood still dripping from my sliced hand, and waited.
The baby was kicking frantically now, like it knew.
"I'm sorry," I cried, curling around my belly. "I love you… I love your daddy… I'm just too tired. Too broken."
The room started spinning. My vision blurred. The pain in my arm faded into numbness.
Darkness crept in at the edges.
Stefan… I'm sorry…
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Stefan's POV
I was halfway back to Mystic Falls when something inside me snapped.
I couldn't leave her. Not like this.
I turned the car around and sped back to Willow Bay, breaking every speed limit. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
When I burst through the apartment door, the metallic smell of blood hit me first.
"Myra?!"
The trail of blood led me to the bathroom.
She was slumped against the wall, pale as death, blood still oozing from deep gashes on her arm and hand. An empty pill bottle lay beside her.
"No… no, no, NO!"
I dropped to my knees, pulling her into my arms. Her heartbeat was terrifyingly weak.
"Stay with me, baby. Please. I'm here. I'm right here."
I bit into my wrist and pressed it to her mouth, forcing my blood down her throat while I dialed 911 with my other hand.
"Hold on, Myra. You can't leave me. You can't leave our baby. I love you. I love you so much. Please… fight."
Her eyelids fluttered once.
Then nothing.
Only the sound of my own broken sobs filled the apartment as sirens wailed in the distance.