The screaming and boxing matches between my parents were too much for me. I was scared and sad all the time, and I had no means of escape. When I stumbled on a chance to end it, I took it.
“This stuff is poisonous, so go wash your hands,” my mother said, twisting the cap onto the bottle of nail polish remover.
I walked down the hallway and slowly entered the bathroom. I turned on the water, and pretended to wash my hands as I stared into the mirror. I said goodbye to my tiny reflection, and walked to my bedroom. I said long, tearful goodbyes my stuffed animals, and somberly knelt down in front of the window. I put my fingers in my mouth, and waited to die.
I was very upset when the poison failed to kill me. Taking more of it, or finding some other poison never crossed my tiny, little mind. Kindergartners just aren’t that smart.