How to Save a Life

Chapter 1

If there was anything that I have learned in the last few years since Mom died, it's how to act and pretend that everything is flowers and butterflies in Skyrah-land. Like, seriously. I should win an Oscar for this shit.
After the initial shock and confusion of the events of the night before wore off, I trudged to the luxurious bathroom of my unnecessarily huge apartment and plastered on a smile and painted my face with makeup, only to give the illusion of a perfect girl. But that's the magic of makeup, it can force even the most empty and broken girl to look put together.
I stared in the mirror, into my dark features, olive skin, carefully applied makeup, and my fake smile and thought how scary it was that sometimes, on the best days, it even fooled me. The only reminders being the subtle, yet harsh scars on my wrist, and the emptiness inside. But I quickly covered the scars with foundation, and thankfully no one has the ability to see the emptiness.
The thing about depression is that society has changed its meaning. Depression is not cool or edgy and it's not something that you just say when you crack your phone or get a bad grade on an exam. It's a constant feeling of drowning, feeling like you have weights attached to you everywhere you go. I want to be happy, I do, but I just don't know how.
I hadn't cut in six months and I guess that's some sort of accomplishment. In high school, it was so easy for others to write me off as an attention seeking whore. But in reality, attention is the last thing I ever wanted. And that's the real reason why I stopped, so the whispering would stop. But it didn't, not until I graduated and got the hell out of that tiny ass town.
~~
There is something extremely sick and ironic about the fact that I had to take that bridge to get to work that day. It's funny because I somehow expected something to be different about that bridge. I'm not sure what I expected, maybe a giant red X marking the spot where Skyrah James jumped and miraculously survived. That bridge almost ended my life, and there was no sign of that.
And that's what gets me. How insignificant everything you do will always be.
~~
There's actually no real reason for me to work, I have all the money I could ever need, and then some.  I guess it's just a way to fill the void of my days. And I suppose my work is the one real thing that I actually somewhat enjoy. I fill my days at the book store just outside of the college town I live in. When I'm not working I just sit in the ratty old couch in the corner, escape my reality and indulge in the pathetically and annoyingly perfect life of someone else. But that day, all I could think about is what the hell happened the night before.
I know I said that all that mattered was that I was alive and safe, but to be honest all of that was a steaming pile of bullshit.
I was two weeks from my first semester of college. This should have been the time of new beginnings and consideration of the future. But there I was, the night before considering the end.
But the end wasn't here, not yet.
And I really needed to know why and how.

...
Author's note
Hello! And thank you for reading this far! I know the first few chapters are a little heavy but I swear it starts to look up. This story means a lot to me and I have been sitting on it for an unbearable amount of time. I have decided to republish the first few chapters I have and see where it takes me. I really hope you enjoy and please like, comment and do not be afraid to share any constructive criticisms you may have.
Love, Jaimie