Today is February 10th and today I’m going to die.
I already settled my fate, chosen my path, or whatever you want to call it. I said nothing to anyone when I left. It’s not like I’d be entirely missed in my house. I’m only number 12 out of 13 needy, ungrateful children according to my mother. My siblings are too full of themselves to even acknowledge my presence as they fight for mother’s attention.
But the majority of her devotion is to her dead beat boyfriend who literally could give two craps about what happens to me or any of us. I’ve become sick with disgust from him sneaking in my room to caress my frail body. I felt my skin rot at the touch of his rough enormous hands around my waist as he grinded his gritty vulgar parts on my thin pajamas. It got to a point I didn’t even fight it, I couldn’t even cry because I knew there was no salvation for me from this. My mother was too ignorantly love-struck to heed my pleading wails for her to believe the atrocity that was being done to me. He would just speak so sweetly to her like a tainted saint about all he wants to be a good father to her children and she devoured that bull. I couldn’t believe that my own mother would take the word of a shady stranger compared to her own child, her own flesh and blood.
I hated home the most but school was a close second on my list of hated things in my life. No one took the time to understand me, my pain, and my struggle. They just judge me on my outward appearance, my raggedy clothes and dirty shoes that were way out of style but it was all I could afford, while tuning out my explanations for why I was this way. But even I struggled to understand why. Why this was happening to me. Why I started at a dead end. My counselors just keep telling me that it’ll only get better from here, that the best was yet to come, and that I should dress for success as well as other bull crap they thought was “motivating”. It only made me hate life even more. Hate my mom, hate my home, hate my school, I just hated my life.
I don’t even remember the most recent moment I was remotely happy. I do recall once when I was in 10th grade when a guy actually talked for me. And it wasn’t just any regular old boy. It was Alex Mathews, also known as the hottest senior at our school. I was so off guard, so naïve and desperate to be wanted and accepted, that when he asked me on a date I immediately accepted without giving it a second thought. I was so excited that I even stole a nice dress for the first time so I could at least look somewhat attractive. The date started off nice, movie and a dinner followed by a nice walk that eventually led to his house. Well, I thought it was his house. Turns out it wasn’t, but that wasn’t the biggest lie he told me. I knew something was wrong when I saw several guys that I think went to our school in the living room with a video camera. I felt the same aura from them that I felt from my mother’s boyfriend: moral- less lust. All I really remember is my body hurting all over and a warm uncomfortable feeling inside me. I tried my best to suppress that memory but I failed miserably to do so. When I told my mother she just laughed at me, asking what did I expect since there’s no way anyone, let alone a popular guy, would ever genuinely like me. I couldn’t believe her. Her word hurt more than the actual trauma of the event.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I had no hope, no motivation, just a roof over my head basically. Which some would be grateful for, but it isn’t worth it to me. As a senior now I should have at least some idea of what I want to do with the rest of my life. But honestly, I haven’t the slightest idea. Life feels like a nightmare to me that I can’t wake up from. Not even my daily cutting seems to wake me up from this hellhole. I wasn’t made strong enough for this. I literally can’t do it.
Well, I’m finally at my designated building. It was just the right height and easy to get through without being questioned really. I made my way to the staircase inside. I climbed all 48 flights of stairs until I reached a door labeled ROOFTOP. I felt a sense of excitement and rage as I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the sun. I wasn’t really sure why I was angry, probably because I was so fed up with the hand life dealt me. I did know the reason for my excitement though. I was finally getting away, permanently. It was the ultimate runaway plan.
It would probably take a couple of days for my mother to realize I’ve been gone but I doubt she’d care. Maybe she will when she sees my name on the 6’oclock news. I can see the heading now flash across the screen as the catchy tune that symbolizes the news plays: Local Teen Jumps to Her Death. Wonderful. I took a good look at my surroundings.
Such a clear sunny morning, not a cloud in the sky. I’m glad that such peaceful images would be my last. It’s best to end on a serene note. I take a few breaths as I walk to the edge of the flat roof. I don’t even want to look down so that I feel no doubt about what I’m preparing to do. And without a second thought, I turn my back to the ledge, look up to the sky with a smile and fall, like the fallen angel I felt like I became.
No regrets, no feelings, no more…
