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E V E R Y O N E L O O K S T H E S A M E I N T H I S T O W N
Y O U C A N H A R D L Y T E L L T H E D I F F E R E N C E
S H E S T A Y E D A T H O M E A N D F I G U R E D O U T HOW
T O W I L L H E R S E L F O U T O F E X I S T E N C E
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I gaze at Mother Earth, engrossed in the beauty of the outside world. Everything about my surroundings is ideal, from the sunflowers and lilies adding such lovely hues to the otherwise lifeless green grass, to the pink and orange sky serving as a backdrop to the fiery sun setting. I watch as small fish, possibly koi, swim around one another in a small pond in front of me, creating smooth ripples.
Fish are such naive creatures. I could easily grab one and bite a chunk out of its slimy, scaly body. Nobody would notice. It would be like taking a grain of sand from a beach, like shooting a deer in a forest. If I died right now–perhaps I slipped and fell into this pond with great impact to my head, or a wild dog came and tore my body into shreds, would anybody care? Possibly a few, excluding those who act as though they were close friends with the deceased.
I adore being outside. The world seems to be hovering just out of reach, waiting for me to grab hold of it and end its suffering. This place is a great respite from adults, from corny teenagers who believe they are everything, and from myself. I can breathe in the clean air and exhale any negativity, sending it off in the distance. As I rub the sharp grass, I can feel it tickle my fingers. The cleanliness of my surroundings is odorous to me. I can see nature being itself, the animals thriving in their natural environments.
Of course, like most things in life, this doesn't last forever. I hear my name being called. The voice is one I recognize. It’s a boy from a couple of my classes that I guess I could call a friend. “Over here!” I shout out to him, wondering how he knew I was here. He finds me and smiles back, walking up to sit beside me.
He’s not too bad I suppose. He’s actually quite cute. Dark brown eyes, bleached blonde hair with his natural brown leaking out at the roots, an oversized black band t-shirt (I'm not quite certain who, it's a name I don't recognize), baggy jeans, and black sneakers. He has multiple piercings: angel fangs, a bridge piercing, a hoop ring in the center of his nose, and a left eyebrow piercing.
“Ayesha?” he waves his hand in my face. “Were you even listening to me?” I realize I zoned out. “Oh, sorry, repeat what you said?” I respond, an awkward grin plastered on my face. After praising my outfit, he starts talking about some girls who made fun of him during class, that he couldn't stand it and knew I’d be out here, so he came. We spend a couple of hours out here, talking about random things.
Eventually, an alarm goes off on my phone. 6 P.M. Shit. I hastily stand up to retrieve my things. “Sorry! I– I really, REALLY have to go.” He frowns and nods his head. I get everything together and start hurriedly pacing home, hoping with everything my father isn't there yet.
Last time this happened, I wasn't able to move my leg for an entire day. I still have the scar from his shattered beer bottle being thrown at me. Ever since my mom died, he has been a drunk and a druggie. Average abusive dad. I’ve tried to report him a couple of times, but it doesn't work, and I end up in worse pain than before.
Of course, I see his truck in the driveway. I feel my heart racing, and my body starts to shake. As I enter, I watch him look at me with that look. The look that says ‘I’m going to beat the shit out of you, and you're not gonna do anything about it.’ “Where the fuck were you?” he shouts. “I– I had to stay after school- for homework.” I manage to get out, but it's too late. He’s already raised his fist.
After many bruises and possibly needing to steal some bandages from a store, I go to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I cry muffled tears, grabbing my pencil sharpener and making cherry red lines all over my thighs. I watch the blood drip, calming down against the bathroom door. I breathe heavily, looking around the bathroom.
Then, I see it. My escape from reality. I look not once, not twice, but three times, realizing. A full bottle of Acetaminophen. I grab it like my life depends on it, because it does, and I eat them until they’re gone, like little candies. One. Then two. Then three, then eight, then fifteen, and next thing I know, the entire bottle is gone.
I feel my weak body relaxing over the next few minutes, not that I’m dying yet, but that I'm so, so tired. The last thing I feel before I fall asleep is a drop of blood running down my thigh completely. It makes me smile slightly, knowing it will be the last thing I will ever feel.
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. S H E G A V E I T A T R Y
S H E C L O S E D H E R E Y E S
S H E D I D N T K N O W H O W I T D F E E L
S H E J U S T H O P E D T H A T I T W O U L D N T H U R T
I T A L M O S T W O R K E D
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I wake up at about 7:30 A.M. I put on a black crop top that hangs off my shoulder, low-rise, loose-fitting jeans, and black shoes. Before my dad wakes up, I hurry outside and start making my way to school. While walking, I finish getting ready: I brush my long maroon hair, I tease my bangs, I put on mascara and lipgloss, and by the time I'm done, I’m at school.
I don’t have time to realize I’m supposed to be dead, but the second I sit on the cold concrete, it all comes back to me. How am I not dead? This isn't fair. I did what I was supposed to. Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up get out of my head (paragraph unfinished)
My thoughts get interrupted by Lucas. “Is everything alright?” he asks. If only he knew. If only he fucking knew. “Yeah, I’m fine,” i snap at him, audibly pissed.
