On The Edge

Ok this is really short, and it my first story, so please tell me what you think!

I stepped out of the school gates and walked over to the bus stop. I saw all the groups of kids, chatting, smiling laughing, all thing I hadn't done for a long time.

The bus pulled up, and in the rush to get seats I got pushed around a bit, unnoticed like always. I'm good at that, being quiet, easy to miss. Well, I'm not the kind of person you take a second glance at I guess. Average size, brown hair, hazel eyes, your stereo-typical 17-year-old girl. In appearance anyway. Not emotionally. Not mentally. Not socially.

I can't talk at all. I never have been able to. So I've never been able to make friends and I'm not very good in school. I just don't feel like I have much of a purpose. Te only thing in really good at is drawing.

I'be been drawing since I was little, and I've always been good. I'm best at people. I think it's because if my inability to talk to them, but I don't pick up on what a person is like through asking them, I learn more by seeing them, their body-language and the way they treat people. Anyway, it irrelevant to this story I'm telling you.

The bus trip was boring, like always. I just stared out the window and thought if what I would find at home. Most likely my parents would be arguing over something stupid like "I am the only one who does anything around this house!" or "why didn't you pay that bill?" It was never good.

When I arrived, I found myself correct. I opened the door to mum screaming at dad. I didn't even bother to listen to what they were fighting over, it would just make me feel worse. I just went quickly and quietly up to my room and shut the door behind me. I didn't bother to get out my homework, I just went over to my desk and began to draw. All the time I drew I thought about myself, my unimportance to the world. How different would it be off I wasn't here? Not very. That was when I made my decision right there. I didn't even cry.

It didn't bother me much at all.

Next to completed drawing I wrote "My Wish" in my normal, tiny handwriting.

As I stepped out if my room, I breathed deeply running my hand up and down my arm. Tiny hills ran under my fingertips, scars of my hurt, my pain. That was when the tears pricked in the corners I my eyes. I began to run, as fast as I could. I ran out of my house and down the busy street full of cars with happy people in them. People singing along to the radio, people talking with one-another. More things I couldn't do. I tell you, the list goes on.

I reached the big apartment building in the corner of two streets and slipped in as quietly as I could. Into the lift, pressing the "roof" button rising up, these thing I did blindly, almost unconsciously.

I stepped out onto the roof and was blasted by a cold, strong wind. I stumbled over too the safety railing that surrounded the edge if the building. I tried to take deep breaths, but I was crying hysterically now. The wind was making the wet trails my tears left behind so cold they seemed to burn,but I barely noticed. I just stared out over the city,taking in everything. The whole city that had no idea what I was about to do. I closed my eyes and sl

owed my breathing, calming myself. This was it. This was what I wanted. I leant forward, and I want quite ready when I unbalenced, slipping off the edge if that building and falling down to the hard, cold ground.