Stella sat on the edge of the bathtub and wondered how it came to this. The cool tile beneath her feet warmed as the blood, like a peaceful forest creek, flowed around her toes.Muted blues music played from the kitchen radio."So this is how it ends?" she said softly to her reflection in the mirror.(Across from the bathtub in the spacious bathroom hung a nearly full-length mirror, frameless and scarred by a single crack that crossed diagonally from the top left corner down to the bottom right corner. Stella's reflection looked distorted as she stared at herself from the edge of the bathtub.A faintness began to come up her, like a winter fog on a rainy day. Her cut wrists began to throb as her life drained to the floor. Stella watched the blood flow down her hands. Her fingers became sticky red. It reminded her of the time she had spilled red paint when painting the studio. It reminded her of him."Why did you do it, John?" she moaned as her body slumped downward to the cold, tile floor. Stella watched herself in the cracked, frameless mirror. She stared into her eyes, looked deeply into the ponds of fierce blue that had been filled with weeping.Her back leaning against the bathtub she began to hum with the kitchen radio blues singer:I'm on my way, to FreedomlandI'm on my way, to FreedomlandI'm on my way, to FreedomlandNo turning back, no turning backSuddenly, the music became louder as if to be coming from the inside of the walls in the bathroom. Stella sensed a shift, another presence in the bloodied bathroom with her. A bright light shone around her.Stella closed her eyes, welcoming death to set her free.Death did come. It hovered near her, waiting for it's cue to do it's work. Stella's breathing slowed. Her pretty blue dress covered with red blotches of her sadness and self-hatred.Death came even closer. Ready to kiss her. Ready to swallow her whole.But not yet.Stella's eyes blinked wide open, wider than the canyons of the valleys back hills. She gasped, as if waking to an epiphany of horror."No," she whispered, "No, no." Her voice grew in strength. "No!" she screamed, as she saw herself in her mirror, the bloodied blue dress, the ugly slashes on each wrist. "No!" she screamed at death. "God, help me!" she hollered her prayer with all the passion of a birthing woman.Death howled as life's steel-toed boot kicked it towards the door. The dark shadow raged with threats as the light of hope rose upon Stella on her bathroom floor. In an instant, death was gone.Stella reached her weakened hand out to the cracked mirror and pushed herself up to her knees. Seeing her reflection, her tangled brown hair, blue eyes red and swollen from the hopelessness she'd been carrying, Stella startled herself awake."Not today, God," she prayed. "I don't want to die."Hope, not death, claimed Stella on her tiled bathroom floor.The kitchen blues singer echoed down the hallway. Stella sang with her,I'm on my way, to FreedomlandI'm on my way, to FreedomlandI'm on my way, to FreedomlandGreat God Almighty, I'm on my way

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