Suicide.

Chapter One

Chapter One
To The Bridge

Saturday, 7am, London England.

My story is not going to end happily. I am not happy and I fear I never will be, I will die a horrible death and I'm preparing for it. What is it like to die? Does the pain ache forever or is it like a pinch? Do you float in the depths of nothing? Are you welcomed in the gates of heaven? My mind wanders as a put on my denim shorts and a black band shirt with a black leather jacket, any weight to make me sink faster and fade into the horrors of death in the ocean. I put on the beaded necklaces I made with Wyatt one day, they had become a lucky charm. I'm careful not to make a sound as I put my trainers on. The floodboards creak angrily beneath my weight as I creep out of my bedroom. I jump in fright when I see my father. I realized he was holding a shot, I sigh in relief when I notice he's completely wasted. My dad's never the awful one, he doesn't abuse me, at least not on purpose. He knows mom's cheating on him and he tries to get revenge, I know he does. I can see the pain in his brown eyes, the pain he tries so hard to hide.*
"Morning, dad..." I muttered.
"Morning, kiddo...where ya headed?" He said in a slurred tone.
"Convenience store, I need a new charger." I lied simply. I often pitied my dad, he was not half as cruel as mother.
"Stay safe, okay?..." he smiled loopily. My gaze softened as I nodded. I wasnt going to stay safe, if launching off a bridge is safe then my mother is kind. I walked out the door, my shoes meeting the welcome mat. I walk down the 3 steps and reach the pavement. I dont look left and right before crossing the road, lord, I'd be lucky if I was hit by a car. I hum to myself as I unfortunately make it to the other side of the road. Thank goodness my father was drunk enough to not realize that the convenience store down the street closed almost a year ago. I walk without purpose, I was walking right to death. A small smile crawls on to my face, I'm going to die. I wasnt going to wait a year to move out, I couldn't bare it. I usually never wore shorts in public because of the scars on my legs but I was too jubilant to care, too happy about dying. My grin grows as I get closer and closer to Tower Bridge. I notice a single daisy growing beneath a lamppost with a few weeds. I gently pluck it and see a guy around my age pass by. I smile, maybe I could make someone's day before dying.