I was walking down Birtesh Avenue. This was the wrong street. All the way on the other side of town, far from where I was supposed to be. I was running away. Running away from my problems. From my mom, Mr. Gardeen, my therapist. What's the point of having one, if they don't do their job.
All I had with me was a rugged suitcase, and $15. That can't even pay for one night at a Motel. The suitcase was worthless, with only three days worth of clothes. My hair was messy, my face was dirty, my life was fucked up.
I Wish I Would Die...
Those fatal words, said out loud, came true. And that night, I, Makala Simmons, tripped and fell in a nearby sewer, broke my neck, and died.
The End.
