Stained by Invisible Ink: A Virgin's Suicide Note

FOUR

FOUR

The next day at school was worse than I ever could have imagined. There was a strong possibility it might even take out the prize for "Worst School Day Possible When Something Not Involving Estelle Happens". The posters of Jessica's conversations were restuck to a majority of the lockers, walls and classroom doors, and there were even more rumours circulating, but that wasn't what made it the worst day. It happened in the middle of our first class. I was just in the middle of learning about something fascinating with a slight connection to the topic of 'Equality Between the Modern Day Woman' or something like that when the loudspeaker crackled to life. The loudspeaker is never turned on during class time. Our principal decided that the loudspeaker going off in class 'disrupted our learning' and made the decision not to use it outside of lunch hours unless it was an emergency. Then and there, we all knew something terrible had happened.

"Attention all," the cracked, aging voice of the school receptionist was heard by all, "Will the year 12 students please make their way to the hall at the end of first period in ten minutes. Mr Bloominghall has called an assembly. Your attendance is mandatory."

Just like that, the speaker cut out and we were all left in shock. What on earth could Mr Bloominghall want? He never called assemblies, ever. Even when a grade did something so inexcusably terrible, he wouldn't call an assembly. He would just interrupt our normal assembly to take twenty minutes to lecture us. His lectures were never boring though. He was usually kind enough to involve some pictures. In a heartbeat, that fascinating thing about woman's equality wasn't so fascinating. For the remaining ten minutes, no one listened to anything going on in class. When the final bell rang, we all filed out of class together. As each class made their way to the hall, other groups would join on. Friends would find friends and exchange worried glances. Sharnae, Rosie and I were no different. We gripped onto each other's hands and sat down in the middle of a row a decaying plastic chairs. The chairs around us were filled quickly, but no one spoke. All eyes were trained on Mr Bloominghall, standing tall behind the podium. After a minute, and when the last row had finally been seated, Mr Bloominghall cleared his throat and began to speak. "It is with great sadness that I speak to you, the twelfth grade students of Wilson's College today. Over the last few weeks, I'm sure you, as with many of our teachers, noticed a chilling negative and harassing approach in regards to one of your fellow students, Jessica Tamra. It has come to the attention of the faculty that this is impeding on not only the academic results of your cohort, but on the social relationships between you as well.

This assembly has been scheduled since these acts of harassment and bullying came to the attention of the administration. Unfortunately, last night brought about a chilling change of events. Instead of speaking to you about bullying this morning, we have had to change the message in a rather drastic way. Ladies and Gentlemen- I say this because after this news, I fear you will no longer be the boys and girls that walked into these school gates at the beginning of the day, your fellow student Jessica Tamra committed suicide last night in her bedroom. Her body was found this morning by her parents. I'm deeply, deeply sorry to have had to tell you this. The school councillors have been called to assist anyone who needs their help. Again, I'm deeply sorry for your loss as a grade."

For the first minute, the hall was silent. Suddenly, one by one, there was an eruption of sobs. It started with Holly. They were quiet, shaking sobs. The kind of crying you do in private, when you're in your shower and you know no one can see you and that no one can judge you. She wasn't even crying to begin with, she was sort of just shaking. The sobs were racking through her body quicker than anything I'd ever seen before, and she looked like she was hyperventilating. She stood up, and our entire grade watched her. She made her way towards the exit, but only got about halfway before her body was riddled with cries and she fell onto the floor. Elliott was up and by her side in a heartbeat. He rocked her back and forth, muttering sweet condolences into her ear. His attempts were cut short though as she let out a rippling scream, "WHY?!"

Her sobs were loud and aggressive now, and they prompted everyone else to start crying just as much. People made their way to Holly, hugging her and telling her everything would be alright. Some of the students walked outside, holding in their obvious sobs. Rosie started crying. She just sat there with the tears streaming down her face. Like me, I think Shanae was completely numb. I couldn't believe that Jessica had done that. That she had killed herself. She had gotten so low, so desolate that she thought she was alone in this world, and that her only option was to end her life. Which, in retrospect, was entirely true. Jessica was alone. She had been abandoned by everyone; her friends, her fellow students, her teachers. Even complete strangers turned up their noses at her. She was treated like a criminal; like the lowest scum of the Earth all because Kaitlyn had decided it was her right; that it was in her power to spread a false and demeaning rumour about a fellow classmate. I stole a glance towards Kaitlyn. She sat alone. Her friends had abandoned her to show support towards Holly, and she stood like a statue. She was unblinking. Her eyes simply bore into the wall on the far side of the hall. Looking at her, I realised what she was thinking. Looking at her, I realised that she finally felt the weight of her guilt pressing down on her; crushing her soul. I realised that she finally felt what her actions can do, and what her words can cause. Looking at Kaitlyn, I realised what she finally saw herself as; a murderer.

The rest of the day was a blur. Not the excited, anxious blur of before the assembly, but a slow, sluggish blur. It was the kind of blur that made you question your sanity, and whether you had taken anything that morning. I couldn't remember a lot. We were all taken to different counselling sessions to talk through the "event" as they were calling it. Kids were sobbing and shaking and breaking down. No one knew what to do. Jessica had killed herself, and we, as a cohort, had all but tied the noose. Of course we all knew that it was Kaitlyn who had caused it. It was Kaitlyn who had started the rumour, but we egged her on. We agreed with what she said and each word we spoke and curse we wrote on her wall was another dagger through her heart, and another shovel of dirt dug out of her grave. I couldn't tell whose sympathies were legitimate and whose were cries for attention. In the end it didn't matter. We, as a grade, as a school and as a community, had messed up. We had not only ruined, but taken the life of a young girl who had so much to live for. And it was in this moment that I realised that I wasn't the only one who was hiding behind a mask. Jessica had lasted so long behind her mask. But she couldn't last forever. Her mask had forced her to do the only rational thing in her mind; it had forced her to end her life. In a weird way, I felt glad for her. She didn't have to put up with this planet of suffering anymore. She was finally at peace. She didn't have to hide behind her mask anymore, as we finally understood who she was and who the real Jessica was. We finally understood how broken she was, and how we were the ones who broke her.