But there was something about Charlotte. She wasn't like the most prettiest girl in the world, but anyone with heart could tell that she had a beautiful heart. A heart that could easily be broken. A heart that needed to be protected.
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Her pare...
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MINUTE FOUR
I'm bored.
I'm here in my final thinking moments and I'm freaking bored.
There's nothing to do here but think. And honestly, I don't really want to think right now. There's simply not lots of stuff to think about before you die.
And I can feel the life slipping out of my fingers like sand.
Sand. So many particles that originally came from one rock. Millions and millions of grains you can't possibly count.
The grain of sand is kind of like me in a way. I'm so small and tiny that my life will be forgotten. It'll get lost in the other grains of sand burying me through and through.
I think I'm dying in the cell where they put me in alone.
Probably Sam's trying to pump the life back in me, trying to save me, or he was hauled away to either be killed or let loose.
I hope he's being let loose. I mean, Julie would be killed too.
Sam's parents are really heartless. Like- who kills off a bunch of people when they already know they can't be arrested? They are literally prosecutors. They know I won't go to the police. Peter's dad is a sergeant, but I think they know he won't tell because he knows it my story to share.
So why are they killing me? Did. Why did they kill me? Why did they hunt me all these years?
Is there something else I don't know about?
I've left Peter everything I've collected so if there is something, he'll figure it out. I hope he does. I really do. Because if he doesn't, I think I'll die again. I will. I've spent the last few years collecting a pile of mismatched stuff about my parents' murder.
I wonder what it's like after you die. Can you really watch over the people and can you really see the people who already are dead? I mean, I would want to see my parents and stuff, but at the same time? I kind of don't. I've failed them over and over again, and I'd have to explain all this freaking mess to them. Why I died. Why I lost 2000 dollars. Why I got so attached to Peter. Why I took the clothes from Julie. Why I did everything I did after they were killed.
What's the point of everything you do in your life if you're going to die? Even if you die at a whopping 100, like, everything's gone. Everything you've done while you were still alive doesn't matter.
Unless you were a world changer or something.
Amelia Earhart. Thomas Edison. Bill Gates. George Washington. Freaking Michael Jordan. The world can't do without them.
But they can without me.
I honestly don't really think the world came from an explosion.
I'm just being truly honest here, but think about it for one freaking second.
This Earth is so intricately made that it makes like no sense that this stuff just happens. Why are humans even existing?
I feel like I'm floating when I think about this type of stuff.
I'm stuck here with my stupid, stupid thoughts and I'm dying. I wish I could have smiled before I died. It would be fun to do that. Like my last smile or something. To let Sam it's gonna be alright.
But it probably wouldn't. After I die, I think there's going to be even more chaos then ever. I mean, Peter's got to still be alive. He's probably going to avenge my death, Sam and Julie will probably get married or something, Sam's parents will probably kill people for no reason, the rest of the world will go into a war or something. Chaos, good or bad, it's always gonna be there. There's no stopping it. I wish I could though. Just stopping future events and living in the same conditions. But what if there's a guy with cancer or someone who's suffering?
If fate allows them to get healed, they wouldn't get the chance.
See? I'm so selfish. I wish the world could stop only because I want it to stop.
Oh my gosh, I'm rambling. In my head.
I wish I could write a book full of my thoughts. It'd make completely no sense at all. It'd be full of nonsense, full of stuff people won't agree with, stuff that's just complete stupidity. Because in reality, that's actually what I am. Stupid.
Just plain stupid. I can't even read a Charles Dickens book or whatever. I can't do basic high-school math, forgot all my science stuff, can't drive, can't hold a boyfriend. I'm not even a good kisser.
I'm like a number 2 pencil in the middle of all those cool mechanical pencils, glitter pencils, colored pencils. Just kind of lost. Just plain. Nothing important about me.
-
Gosh. I think I'm dying.
I can freaking feel it.
My life is falling in front of my... thoughts?
I feel like I'm being thrown down, but there's no end. There's no ground.
I feel weightless. I feel like I'm floating, yet falling. I can see myself.
I can freaking see myself.
I'm lying down, my eyes are closed. There's blood being poured out of me. A gun is laid next to me, my clothes blood stained. Sam's crying in the corner, covering his face. Some guys in are running towards me.
But that image is falling away from me. It's getting smaller and smaller and smaller and...
I can't see that image anymore.
It's gone. I want to cry. I'm scared.
I'm really scared. Scared more than ever before.
I'm going to die. DIE. I'm DYING. DIE. DEAD. LIFELESS.
I can only see a swirl of colors. Dark, neutral colors swinging like a kaleidoscope. They're flashing their lights at me and all I can think is about death.
I'M GOING TO DIE. IT'S HAPPENING. I'M GOING TO DIE. I'M DEAD.
