Switchblade Jade, Creepypasta

Origin

Content Warning: involves mentions of s3lf-h@rm

I walk home, through the rain, like yesterday, and the day before that, it's cold, but I don't feel it, and the rain pouring down my face is ignored. When I get home, I arrive, as my mum who was parking her car in the driveway. "Aw, sorry I couldn't pick you up." She speaks. "it's fine." I sigh under my breath, forcing a smile, to not make her worry. I proceed to go inside, and ignore, the sounds, the atmosphere that causes me irritation, and the text messages from my so called friends. I sigh, and collapse onto my bed in exhaustion. I notice a shine in front of andI stare forwards at the switchblade I got for my 13th birthday 3 or 4 years ago that was left on my bed. I pause and grimace, hateful; before flipping the blade open, I lower the sharp object to my arm, about to add to my collection of self-harming scars, when I hear my mum callout "Don't forget to practice your piano!"; I sigh and flip my knife back. Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" I play; a tune written during the musician's depressive state.

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I was su!c*dal. I suffered from depression and quiet borderline-personality disorder for.. what? 4 years now? No one cared, no one listened, everyone would shame and ignore.

I wake up in the morning, a new day comes. Most times I wish I never did wake up. Suicidal thoughts I had made me feel guilty; blessed with kind parents, a fortunate lifestyle and what some people would call an ideal life. People around me would shame me for even crying. Not that I ever really did cry. I manage to hide it every day, I tried to act like the perfect daughter for my parents.

My dad dropped me off at school, for the last time that day. I was originally planning to kill myself, not that that was an unusual thing, since human instincts caused failed attempts. "See ya Jade, love you." My dad says to me before I walk off. I nod and plaster a small smile, like every other day. One of my 'friends' approaches me, "Jade! You didn't reply to my messages again!" she says, "I didn't have time." I remark. She looks at me plainly, then pushes me, and joins the others. It was the same almost everyday. When I walk to the lockers another person throws a scrunched-up piece of paper at me, one of them bumps my shoulder and an 11th grader sticks chewed up gum, onto my hoodie.
I was walking to the library, and a group 7 of 12th graders come at me, "you're that b*tch who hurt my sister." A girl says grabbing my head. I reply monotoned, "to clarify, your sister, tried to break my wrist." Then, Her boyfriend clutches my shoulder, "Why don't you shut the f*ck up, you piece of sh*t." He shouts, and punches my face, making my mouth bleed. I take the guy's arm, and use a technique, to pull his arm with a twist, making it dislocate a little. The girl takes a photo, and runs off with the rest. Only several moments later, a notification bleeps on my phone. A photo of me, the guy, and a paragraph saying
"Jade Jones in the 10th grade, is a sociopath and a freak, she hurt my boyfriend and my sister."
That day, I got bullied more than usual. Even people I didn't even know, walked past me and glared or hit me. Everyone was giving me dirty looks, a few people would walk past me and do things like pull my hair, or clench my arm, dig their nails in. People were afraid of me, but now that people knew that the whole school was against me, they weren't scared.

Later in the day; that girl , walks up to me, and before she says anything I say with a smile, "hey, can you come with me?" she shoots me a weird look, "The hell do you want?" she responds, I take her wrist, "Come on lets go." I continue. My grip on her wrist tightens, as I begin to twist it. "Agh! What the hell you freak, s-sure whatever." She utters. I pull her up the stairs, and stop at the storage room. "What do you want?" she groans.

I didn't really know what had swept over me, I-, I just absolutely lost control, like as if my body didn't even belong to me. My limbs were shivering, and were beginning to moving on their own, and I was just so depressed and psychotic. Simply, I just lost my mind. I- I was so prepared to die that day, I thought I could do anything if I were going to end my life anyway, I thought I was going to be dead anyway by the end of it. I flipped out my switchblade and just... slit her throat open. I couldn't control my body. I couldn't stay rational like I usually do. Just all the rage and frustration, I couldn't stop. I continuously stabbed her. My hands were shaking, and my teeth was gritted. Half of my conscience didn't even feel like it was me. After the process.., I cut open her dead face and took my time to cleanly cut her skull out. When I finish, I put her skull in my bag; a souvenir, like. I go back downstairs. I walk into the theatre where an assembly in taking place. I go from the back and see all the people who wronged me, who tried to hurt me, who hated me. The theatre was dark, no one noticed me. I flip my knife away, and slide out a box of matches from my bag. I slip out a single match stick, and strike the edge to light a flame. I spread the flame onto the curtains and timber; .... and let it grow. I then walk out of the theatre, and lock the exit doors, and leave the school to burn and die in the enraging flames.