Suicide

My Funeral

"It's your funeral." Said Death. "I want you to see that because it'll give you the pain it's giving to your family. "

"No!" I cried. "No. No. No. Please, don't do this, Death! I can't bear it!"

The wicked grin came back to his face. "Aww! You can't bear it? Heather, don't forget that you did this. You did this to yourself. Surely, you thought of all this when you 'ended the pain'? "

I felt so angry! "No, I didn't!" I said, hotly. "Why are you so cruel, Death!?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're not very sweet, either."

I scowled. "Yeah, right. Whatever."

"So... let's go?" He asked.

I nodded and he put his cold hand on the half of my back.

Next second, I was standing in a graveyard.

The place was too familiar. I had been here many times. It was the place where I used to find peace...

"See if you can wake yourself up." Whispered Death.

"Huh?"

"Try to wake up your body if you want to come back to life."

My eyes widened in surprise. There was a way to change this!

I rushed over to the coffin and yanked it open. To the 'alive', it was still shut. They couldn't see what I was doing.

I shook my cold, lifeless body. "Wake up!" I hissed. "Up! Get up!" I repeated it over and over again but nothing happened.

I slapped my dead face. Again and again. Nothing happened.

I screamed in frustration and hit my dead body harder.

Death stared at me with a horrified expression while I broke into tears, still trying to wake myself up.

"Heather! Stop. Stop! Heather, I was joking! Stop!" He cried.

"J... joking?" I asked.

"Yes. There's no way back. I'm sorry. This was so wrong of me. Please, stop. There's no way back."

I sat down and took my face in my hands. The last thing I had expected was for Death to try to comfort me. But he put his arm around my shoulder as I sobbed, hysterically.

"I'm very very sorry, Heather. I shouldn't have done that. I truly am sorry... this shouldn't be happening to you."

"But it is. Do we really have to watch the funeral?"

"I'm afraid, yes."

When I got up, I realised that the funeral had started. My dead body was back in the coffin.

There were so many people there for me. I couldn't believe my eyes. Neighbours, family members, classmates, etc.

All my class fellows were sitting in the corner. Melanie was crying, her head on Brandon's shoulder. Jessica, Stephanie, Veronica, Joanne and Suzanne were crying silently. The boys, John, Duke, and Logan looked upset. Andrew and Mike looked disturbed.

They should be disturbed. Because they were the reason I killed myself.

What Andrew did to me was terrible. He was a bully. He had tormented me since the start of middle school which meant 3 whole years. But he did that, not only in school, but in other ways too.

It happened two summers ago. I logged into my Twitter account to find it hacked in the most horrible way. There were things I hadn't written but others thought it was me. It totally ruined my reputation in school. Everyone loathed me... and still does.

This was followed by my Facebook being hacked and by the end of the summer, each one of my accounts on social websites had been hacked.

What really broke me was that my mother believed the post about drugs. Her words hurt me beyond any other pain. "I knew it! No wonder this girl is such a misfit in our family of respectable, honourable people! Drugs, huh?!"

I stammered a reply: "No, Mom! I've never even seen drugs! My account's been hacked!"

At that, she sighed, "Such lies, Heather... I thought that I was raising you right. Why can't you be like Jen?"

That damaged me. My heart shattered into a million, gazillion pieces and my own mother was the reason it had happened.

That was when I changed from the innocent, bullied child to the mean girl. I started smoking and soon, I was an addict.

The hurt was so much already. Mike only made it worse.

Mike Collins cheated on me this May. We had been classmates since kindergarten but in March, he started being really nice to me. He said that I looked upset when I must be happy. He said that a beautiful girl like me should always smile. He pretended to care. And I, desperate for love, believed it. But, two months later, I found out that it was a dare. He and his friends had been planning to pull a terrible prank. They needed a person to humiliate. I was the bait... but I found out in time. I confronted him. And in reply, he said things that further broke my already broken heart.

So, at the end of May, I killed myself, tired of all this bullying and cheating and breaking.

I wish I hadn't.

The funeral made me realise that it didn't really matter what others would say. I shouldn't have let it all get to me. Because, deep down, everybody cares. Though, some don't realise it.

I saw their tear stained faces and I wished this was just a dream. Everything was another blow for me. Everything hurt me even more. Mom's hoarse voice, the dead look on Dad's face, Jack's trembling body and Jen's sad face.

And I saw myself being lowered into the Earth.

Then, everyone started leaving, the final goodbye said.

And then, everyone was gone. Except Ripper. His golden brown fur gleamed in the sunlight. He crawled over to the grave and sat there for a while, head bowed. The dog seemed to be saying his final good bye.

After a while, he licked the headstone and left.

I wished I could stroke his fur or feel his tongue on my cheek.

But I couldn't. I had killed myself.