Duck Lake War[m] water rises; still feels like I can't stop crying

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Depiction of attempted suicide

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Reverie blinked awake into darkness, into a hazy feeling she'd thought she had left behind so many months ago. Her head ached; her mouth felt dry; she felt — she felt —
She started to retch with a strangled cry of pain. All at once her throat was on fire and her stomach was twisting, and she knew with a devastating certainty what she had done. And then she remembered it; in bits and pieces, between gasping breaths and broken whines, she remembered what she had done. She recalled lurching in sudden fear, the inexplicable wash of cold dread down her spine.
That sinking feeling so like watching the sun set for the last time.
And for a wild moment it had driven her mad. Reduced to nothing but the air ripping through her lungs, the cold feeling of it, herself wrought cavernous and echoing with the ragged sounds. Hollowed out, raw and aching, blind as she sought refuge in that most final contingency. She'd scarcely realized what she was doing until the berries had already stained her paws, her lips. She'd only had a moment to regret it — to think of @Blossom, of @Tauris, of @Boone.
Now —
Claws of flame twisted somewhere deep inside of her, and she screamed.

For a time she suffered there, alone as she had always been, gripped by the agony of her own self-destruction. Later she would blame the valley; that scathing encounter with Akavir; the news of Moss's passing. But Reverie knew better than that.
It was her fault. It would always be her fault. And maybe that had been the case all along, even going back to The Gilded Sea. Perhaps her parents had seen the twisted thing inside of her long before anyone else, and knew that she would one day deserve the torment inflicted upon her. Or maybe it was then that she had become so twisted. She didn't know. All Reverie knew was that when the fire finally passed, she found herself weakened; trembling; lying feet away from her own vomit and wishing fiercely that she could simply close her eyes and sleep for the final time. What else was left for her?
Everyone who had ever loved her had come to regret it. And the one who'd loved her the most —

She didn't want to think about it. She was just so tired.