Quite short chapter- really sorry.

WARNING: this chapter makes reference to suicide

One Week Later

Life wasn't worth living. I laid in my bed almost every day, staring blankly at the white walls trying to find some kind of reason to get up but every time I couldn't think of anything. Nothing could force me up other than the need to use the restroom and occasionally filling up my glass of water. Lance visited me every day, trying to cox some food into my mouth but I couldn't swallow anything.

I clutched my stomach as the pain of loss coursed through me as it usually did, the memory of the growing person inside of me stung. I no longer waited for Niall to come back, I knew that he was gone for good. Everything in my life had crumbled to dust, leaving me to live in a wasteland of despair.

Nothing could console me, nothing could distract me from the mounting pain. I was broken. To give up on life is a large commitment, one that I took easily and accepted the fact that I was no longer needed on the planet.

"Dara, you need to do something! You can't sit and mope in here for the rest of your life," Lance tried to refrain from shouting but I could hear the anger in his voice. I still stared emotionlessly at the wall, everyday I was becoming more numb. More numb to life.

"You need to eat!" I knew he was trying to help me but I couldn't listen to what he was yelling, his voice was drowned out by my own thoughts. I didn't want help. I didn't deserve help.

Lance left moodily, realising soon that I was a lost cause and I was left with silence again. I had stopped crying by then, because what good did tears do? Nothing. They did nothing to bring back Niall or my baby.

Loneliness was a dull ache in the pit of my stomach, it ate away at any sanity left inside me. It made me delusional. I began to wonder what was the easiest way to die- by knife or pills? Hanging? I used to fear death with every fibre of my body, but once I had lost everything I began to welcome it with open arms.

No one needed me anymore, I just didn't see the point in living any longer when I had no purpose. All I was doing was taking up space, breathing in vital air, drinking water which was in a limited supply. I wasn't even living, instead I was just laying around all day wallowing in my own self pity. What kind of life was that?

Standing up, I walked towards the bathroom, my footsteps were heavy with the weight of my sadness. The white light flicked on and I squinted slightly from the sudden brightness. I looked in the mirror and sighed, I looked a wreck. Matted, dirty hair stuck to my forehead, my cheeks were permanently red from the tears that rolled down them, my eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep and large bags hung under my eyes solemnly.

"No one can love me," I whispered to myself. Niall couldn't have loved me- he left me. Lance no longer fancied me, I was too ugly. God didn't love me, he took my child from me. The only happiness I had left in my life.

"Maybe I was always destined to be unhappy. Maybe I was destined to lose everything," the words stung in my mouth as I said them, my brain didn't want to accept them.

I knew the end was near. I knew my time on that earth was diminishing before my eyes.

So this was sad. And very short (sorry about that). What's going to happen next? Well I have some bad news- there are only two chapters left of survivors. So will this all be resolved or will something else happen... You may be surprised.

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