Untitled

*Don't criticize this too much as it's pretty much raw material. No polish this time.

There she sat on her bed, back curled against the numbing concrete. The music was blaring and why not, her roommates did it all the time. This time was hers and she needed it; needed to feel the guitars around her while the door was locked, in her mind. Each moment that passed the noose seemed to get that much tighter. Then there was that little knife glaring beside her, not as rescue though not a friend of the rope. The blade offered release no matter how temporary. However one question remained: was the noose tight enough that release was required?