Thoughts of Nothing

CHAPTER 1

She put her head phones in so she could drain out the dull conversations of her peers. She sat in the corner of the old classroom, so no one could notice the scars on her wrists, or the tears dripping down her white, pale face. She was the type of girl that no one wanted to know, not even she wanted to know herself. It's pretty sad isn't it? When you see people like this, but you know you can't do a thing to help them. She was too depressed to even un-zip her black pencil case and get a pen. You could just tell by the way she falsely smiled at everyone walking past her, that she wasn't a happy girl. She's the type of girl, that's afraid to get close to anyone because everyone she's ever gotten close with has left her all by herself. Alone. Sad. Depressed. She can't express herself, the music does that for her. She wants someone, but at the same time she doesn't. She doesn't want to tell people why she hides behind books, the reason that she's always listening to screaming than dull conversations. Because she's also afraid of getting judged, like she already does.

On October the 6th, and she lays under the green leaves of a tree on a rotted bench. With her head phones in, as she blocks out the rest of the world. In this moment, you can tell that she feels nothing. But inside her head, it's like the school itself. Loud, jumbled thoughts running around. She takes out her head phones for a few seconds to hear and try and witness what she is missing out on. But it comes to her realisation she's not missing out on anything. The music sounds so much better to her. She puts them back in, to drain everything out, once again. She looks around at the world in front of her, with kids running around and friends arguing over whose turn is next. She doesn't seem to have a care in the world. But she does. It's all she thinks about, all she wants. But she's too sad.

She sits in class, watching the clock, paying attention to every tick. Knowing that every second, every minute that passes is another little moment closer to going home. One second closer to her death. I watch this girl, every day, and I can see how much pain she is in. Her lips are chapped, and sore. Bags under her eyes, all puffy and red that seem to be nothing themselves. You can see the lines where her tears have been, the trail of sadness and misery. The crying never stops. She's in so much pain, and no one notices, except for me. I feel so sorry for her. But I can't say anything. I don't know how to.

The bell rings. She slowly clutches onto her black books. And swiftly, but hunched walks out of the school gate. Hoping no one can see her as she starts to run.. She stops. Just in front of me. "Depression" she says, as she turns around. "I see the way you watch me at school." She keeps walking into the wintry air, and disappears.

They're the first words I've ever heard Charlotte Burns speak.

I saw her again the next day.

She sat somewhere different at recess today. She sat next to the bubble taps, reading a book. She sat there, and I could barely see her face, it was buried inside this book. I wonder, how many books has she read? I also wonder, if they were even any good.

She closes her book. After ever so carefully placing a brown leaf as her bookmark. She closes her eyes. She inhales. Exhales. She just sits there. She... Looks beautiful.

She lifts her head, and sees me watching her. I quickly turn away, but it's too late. I make notes in my head. She stands up. She's walking towards me.

"Are you right there?" She asks, as she shivers in her long black school gown.

"Ah, yeah I'm fine" I reply, but in my mind I knew I shouldn't of said that.

Before I could look up, and wait for her reply. She had already walked off.

"Hey!" I shouted, as I started running after her. "You forgot your book."

She nodded her head. And continued walking. The book was still in my hand. I didn't know whether to continue chasing after her, or look at the book. Maybe she wanted me to read it.

The bell rang for 5th period.

I saw her. She looked sad. Like she always does. She cringed onto her phone, as she slowly placed in into her pocket. She was just depressed. That was all it was. Depression. As she had stated the previous day. She needed help. She was sad and lonely. I knew that I couldn't do anything to help her though.

She was in the corner of the classroom. She placed her headphone in again. She unzipped her pencil case, and got a black pen. Which had smudges all over it from old running ink.

She curled her back and her face was in her palms. She pulled her hair ever so slightly. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. She looked up. This time, in my direction. She smirked. Her middle finger emerged, again, in my direction. I turned around and started writing down what the old, grey teacher had written on the chalk board.

I wonder what that was for. She seemed angry though. More angry than I've seen her. I tilted my head towards her. She was laughing. Charlotte Burns was laughing. I could see her beautiful white teeth, glowing as they touched the sun coming through the roof.

The final bell for the day rang. And exactly as she did yesterday, she walked out the front gate.

She stopped.

Turned around.

Looked at me. "Did you take a look at the book I left you with?" She asked, as she stood in the middle of the crooked path. "Um, no I didn't. Did you want me to?" I replied, glumly looking at her. "I just thought you might of" she responded.

She kept on walking.

I followed her this time. I knew, that she knew, I was following her. Maybe she was walking home. I assumed so, anyway.

She finally turned into a house, which looked like it might've been hers. Black, like the bags under her eyes or the books she carries around at school. I stopped at the doorway, as she opened the door. The inside was white, just like her skin apart from a few faint freckles. Before I could lift my hand to wave good bye, or a signal that I was leaving. She had shut the door behind her and left me here in the frosty air.

I didn't know what to think after that. My thoughts were just how I imagined hers to be. Blunt, sad. Nothing. Nothing thoughts, I guess. Depressed thoughts. And that's when I knew, I had something in common with Charlotte Burns. Something that we weren't proud of, and we probably never would be. But I knew that I wanted to be her friend. I want to know this girl.