She Doesn't Care . (Being Edited)

Who I Am . ; The Final Chapter .

This is the final chapter.

 I’ll put the note at the end.

                And all that is in this notebook, has taken me up to this point, Doc. You know everything that’s happened in the hospital so; I won’t even get into that. And now, you know everything about my adolescence. You know the problems I’ve been through, what I’ve had to suffer, and what I did to survive.

                So tell me, Doc. This whole notebook was just so you could figure me out. Did you? Do you understand where I went wrong? Do you know why I’m psycho? Do you know why I have problems? Do you know why everyone I’ve ever loved has left me? Do you know why I am like I am?

I know where I went wrong. Being born wasn’t right for me. Hell – life isn’t right for me. My mother should have gotten me aborted, and I’m sure she wishes she did. That’s where I went wrong, right? Being born? That was the start of everything, so I’m assuming, fuck yes. That was exactly where I went wrong. Or maybe before that, maybe just the thought of me ruined everyone’s lives. I should have never existed, not even as a thought.

I know why I’m psycho. I am because I can’t stand this place. I can’t stand life. I can’t stand people. I can’t stand myself. That’s the simplicity of it, Doc. The only reason I’m psycho is because I can’t stand anything. I was thrown into a world, in which I hate. Fuck – if you threw me into a world created by me, I’d find a way to hate that too.

I know why I have problems. I have them because of people like you. People that pretend they care, but I can see past that. I can see what they actually feel. I know you don’t care like you’re supposed to, but that’s alright Doc. I have problems because the people on this planet are so inconsiderate, so rude, and so arrogant. I have problems because God is imperfect.

I know why everyone’s left. It’s because I am me. It’s because I am wrong. It’s because I am psycho. It’s because I have problems. It’s because they’re so inconsiderate, rude, and arrogant. It’s because people don’t know how to care, when they only thing I’ve ever wanted was for someone to care.

I know why I am like I am. It’s because of everything that people have done to me. It’s because of everything I’ve done to myself. It’s because God hates me. It’s because my mother hates me. It’s because my whole fucking family hates me. It’s because my best friend hates me. It’s because you hate me. It’s because, in all honesty, everyone, everywhere, hates me. It’s because I hate me.

So there you go Doc. I just gave you all the answers to everything you’ve been trying to figure out. I hope you’re extremely satisfied. I hope you’re happy as fucking all hell.

You know Doc? I hate you. You know I hate you. And I’m gonna die hating you. You’re going to be the last thing that I think of before I die. And I’ll make sure to think of every single hateful thought I can possibly imagine, Doc. I hope you burn in fucking hell for making me live through every single thing that’s ever happened to me. I hope you die slowly, in front of everyone that cares about you, just so you can appreciate what I never had.

Love. Care. Happiness.

So this is my farewell.

Goodbye family which I hate. Goodbye friends in which I never cared about. Goodbye all the people I’ve fucked. Goodbye every single person I’ve partied with. Goodbye to all the Police that have dealt with me. Goodbye every nurse that’s had to take care of me. Goodbye all the guards that have held me back. And a special goodbye, to you Doc. For I hate you the most.

With all the hate in my cold, useless, beating heart,

McKenzie Marie Richards.

-          End of notebook   -

-          “Doc’s” POV.      -

                As I sat behind my desk, I wondered where McKenzie was. She was 5 minutes late for our session, and she had never been late before. There are special rules, and if they are broken there are consequences, she was well aware of that. I hit the buzzer on my desk, and asked if McKenzie was being held in a group or a session. The answer I got was not the one I was hoping for, so I left my office and went to hers.

                I put my head near the door and listened for any sounds, but heard none at all. I walked inside, and at first saw nothing at all. But upon further inspection I found her. It was a gruesome and sad sight. I knew it was going to happen eventually, but I was hoping I’d somehow get suicide out of her head. I’ve obviously failed.

                I wail, “Help!” as loud as I can, and bend down to check for a pulse, although I knew she was gone. There she lay, a picture of an angel. Only nineteen years old, with a gorgeous face that could swoon any male, she lay dead on the floor. Her blonde hair fanned around her head like an angel, but her skin was almost white, and her lips where colorless.

                She found a very creative way to die, and had a half a broken pencil sticking out of her throat, and the other shard lying by her arms which had puncture wounds covered in blood. A sob choked its way up and out of my throat, as nurses came running in.

                I could hear gasping, sobbing, feet running, and even a little shriek. We had all known that McKenzie was depressed, and that she didn’t want to live, but we never wanted her end to be like this. We wanted her to get better, to be okay and live a good life...

                I got up, and went to leave the room, but found her notebook on the ground. I picked it up, and went to my office half in tears, and half mad at myself for not being able to help her. I turned to her last entry, and read it. I’m not afraid to say I bawled my eyes out not even half way through it.

                My boss came in and took a long look at me. He decided I should take the next few days off, as he knew how much this case and patient meant to me. I left immediately, rushing home. The car ride home I kept thinking about how she died. I couldn’t take the stress. I couldn’t take knowing I was one of the reasons why she killed herself.

                As soon as I got home, I went into my bedroom and sat on my bed. I thought about her. I thought about how I couldn’t help her, couldn’t cure her. I practically pushed her to commit suicide. I hated myself for doing that to her. How could I have? How could I have been so heartless?

                I reached over into my nightstand, and took out the small pistol that lay inside it. I stare at it for a long while, thinking. I finally decided that I didn’t have the right to live. Not after I taking someone so young and innocents life.

                I cocked the gun. I put it in my mouth. I hoped for peace for McKenzie. And then I pulled the trigger.

OhMyGod, that was sad. .___.'

But, it's finally over. And I say the ending was fitting. I hope the describing of McKenz's death wasn't too harsh, if it was, I apologize.

Well, too everyone that's stood by and read this through-and-though ; Thank you . So much . This is my first complete book , and I'm entirely satisfied with how it came out . But I wouldn't have finished it if it weren't for the people reading. <3

I hope you guys enjoyed this book, I really do.

And I hope anyone, that's ever felt the way McKenzie does, finds happiness and lives a good long life. Suicide is honestly never the answer, and there are always people who care for you, and love you. No matter how it may seem.

Take care of yourself , m'dears .

And please , check out Tea Time . :P