"You're not scared of death, are you?" I asked. "Because I'm afraid of dying. I don't want to be here, but I can't help but feel like I have to. It's the only way I know how to deal with it. If I didn't, I wouldn't have any reason to live. But I do. And that's all that matters to me. That's what keeps me going. So, if you're going to kill me, at least do it in a way that doesn't make me feel so bad about it that I won't be able to go on living. Because that would be a waste of my life, you know? I'd rather be dead than live a life that wasn't worth living." She looked at me for a long moment, then looked back at the floor. She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry." Then she stood up and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.