Lines

There's No Running

People don't get it. They think talking somethings out will fix everything. It may work when you actually want to. Forcing a therapedic grouip confrontation on someone is no way to fix things.

The same day that I decided to miss out on the music after school because I was a little too depressed for that, I came home to find them in my livingroom. The whole family I've managed to avoid since I told them about my depression and how I've dealt with it...then they kicked me out of their house because they wouldn't take any of that nonesense, if I was willing to tell god that he had failed once I was listening to the devil, and no child of theirs would be a satanist. They believed that I was listening to the devils whispers in my head instead of god and that I had no right to be living in their holy house which consisted of only 3 crossed in the entire 3 story house. I hated that they still believed in god, maybe he was real and maybe at one point he did care about us but he has abbandoned us. At this moment thousands are being murdered and raped and he is doing nothing, I may not believe in god entirely but that doesn't mean I take to the other side.

What gave them the right to enter into my apartment, I was almost an adult just a while longer until I reached 18, graduated highschool-yeah I was thrown out of the house while I was still in highschool. Nevertheless this whole appartment was my property and last time I checked this was called trespassing. They could not be doing this to me know, could they? I needed some kind of restraining order against them soon.

"What do you guys want?" I growled, dropping the bag of groceries I had just bought on the table at the entrance to my house where I set down my keys and whatever when I arrived.

"W-we just...um well we er-came by for a family support group, we felt that you needed to hear how we felt about you and-" My mother stammered, she seemed like she had been holding back tears from the way her voice cracked. I didn't care, she was just a line, a simple line interfearing in my line's path. I just wanted to end this long rough life that was my own, I wanted to pass her so I could get going with my line and be one day closer to the end of it.

I threw my head back and laughed, I laughed a loud and completely-sarcastic HA-HA.

"Really, how you feel. I think-no I'm pretty sure I got the message when you kicked me out of the house." I said forcing myself to smile although my eyebrows furrowing didn't hide my anger.

"We are sorry Stacey-" My parents said. They kept talking but I won't bother telling you their words, most of which I ignored or couldn't hear over the rushing of the blood in my ears. Most people would've stayed, heard them, tried to prove them wrong. I grabbed my keys and cut them off in the middle of their sentence.

"Leave when you can, from what I see you have two legs that can walk you right out my door. The house will lock automatically." I told them, then closed the door behind me and walked. I needed a walk, desperately. I thought I heard my name being called but kept walking. Head down. Avoiding any gaze. Blocking out everyone and thing. Kept my focus on my feet walking.

Left foot in front.

Right foot in front.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Ri-no, Left.

Right.

I didn't need this now, couldn't they visit so I could kick them out some other day when I didn't feel like killing myself already?

I looked up and realized I was in front of my car. Much too fast. Time always screwed me over. Life always fucked with me countless time's as it is. I looked left and right. The sidewalks and streets were pretty calm. Not that many people. I could walk. Or I could go for a long drive.

In the end I chose walking because driving required gas, gas required money. It may have began to drizzle but I wouldn't be entirely drenched so I kept walking. Once in a while I'd run my key along the side of a nice looking car because everyone needed a shitty day to enjoy the good one's a little better. Seeing as how all I got were shitty days, I had to make the best of them. Most people took things in as they walked. I didn't I blocked everything out, I couldn't focus on anything because I was moving, everyone around me was moving, I found it easier to block things out that way. It wasn't the best way though, the best way would be to end it all. Stop my line at this exact moment.

I looked up once. I was at a corner and the walking sign was the orange hand telling you to stop, there weren't any cars, yet. A truck was driving in, and like trucks usually do, at a fast pace. Better to not think about it and just throw yourself in death's way right? I lifted my foot off the side of the street and placed it over the black slippery road. Closing my eyes I heard the long desperate horn from the truck at it's attempt to warn me, I knew. That would be the last noise I'd remember from life, hopefully the only thing I remember.

That and the tires scraping the road violently as the truck tried to slow down,

the water splashing,

the wheels slipping,

the creaks and groans of the trucks movements,

the muffled shouting from the driver.

The cold soft kisses of the rain against my skin.

The feeling of an arm wrapping itself around my waist.

Someone jerking my body back onto the sidewalk.

Wait-what? The sudden impact of the sidewalk slamming into my entire right side of my body and then the burning feeling of concrete scrapping your skin jolted me back to consiousness, not that I had been knocked out, I had felt free. Loose. Only now I could feel the tight chains wrapping around my wrists and ankles, life was ready to play me as it's puppet once more.

"What the hell was that?!" Some man yells. I know he's not the one that "saved" me, he sounded too old for those swift movements. I could feel the hundreds of pairs of eyes landing their gaze on me. I heard the truck finally coming to a halt, the door oppening and the driver rushing over asking if I was okay, people asking what happened, the driver calling me this "crazy girl who jumped in front of his truck" and someone else the "young man who saved her life."

People, questions, gazes all thrown in my direction at once. Thankfully no one touched me, I lay motionless on the ground, they probably thought I was broken now, and like a small glass figure brought back together with a dot of hot glue they were too afraid to break me once more, afraid to break me even more, so they waited a while. I was still on my side, eyes open wide, small fragile breaths because the sidewalk impact had taken the air right out of my lungs, my gaze wasn't set anywhere specifically, I was staring straight ahead at the collecting pairs of shoes and the floor beside me. I heard someone panting and breathing hard the way you do when you recieve a big shock, most likely the one who jumped out to pull me out of the truck's way.

Then some skinny but not entirely puny guy around my age got on his hands and knees, and pressed the side of his face against the concrete where my gaze was glued to. He was still panting, not as heavily though. This nerd with glasses that were actually kept together with tape in the center, wearing a shirt with some triangle on it that also had a circle and line in the center, the bottom saying "Always." This was the picture of one of the devils demons come to save lives so that they may continue to suffer, most people see them as saviors and angels though.

"Ar-Are you o-" pant, "o-kay?"

He waited, searching my face, the plain expression I held as if watching a blank wall trying to find a difference. He found nothing. So he waited.

Waited for an answer.

Initially I planned to not give one, stand up and walk away, but found that there was a warm feeling just behind my ear, a warm feeling sliding down behind my ear and a stinging sensation around the area too. I was bleeding, if I got up I'd get help so, I answered so that they may leave me to bleed to death.

"Why?" Was the first word I managed to croak.

"What?" The boy said confussion sweeping his face, he turned his head and inched closer so that his ear may be pointed in my direction, he was probably believing the voices calling their families, conversing and tweeting all around us might have made him hear differently.

"Why?" I repeated.

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you let me die?"