Heavy Rain

What happens when you think life is over?

Do you look at your accomplishments? Or your failures?

Do you look at what you did do, or what you should have done?

Do you look at your choices, or the ones you didn't make?

Do you regret?

You can tell a lot about a person on how they act when they look back on their life. Are they embracers? Or dwellers?

I am an embracer. I look back at my past and I accept it. But just because you accept it, doesn't mean you have to deal with it right.

That's why I slit my wrists. I took a razor and cut into my veins, watching the warm, crimson liquid drip out of my milky wrists. I watched it drip onto the tiles, splashing my skin ever so slightly. The clang of the razor in the bowl of the sink still rings in my ears. My note was stapled to my sketch pad, laying on my bed. Maybe if someone payed attention they might find me. I stared at my reflection in front of me. He looked so broken, so alone. He was. That's why I fell to the floor, my knees going weak from blood loss. I landed with a thud on the cold bathroom floor.

"Anthony?! Anthony!!" My 'mother' screamed, banging on the door.

"Call 911!" She yelled to her husband. When the door was opened, and sirens were waking the whole neighborhood outside, I excepted he darkness that was aching to over come me. My mission was over. The deed was done.

Or so I thought.

That was last June. It's now September, the beginning of my final school year at WestBrook Central High School; and damn could I not wait for the day I leave this place. When the incident happened in June, rumors were instantly spread that I died. I was close, but I had a blood transfusion. But instead of being upset, and creating a whole suicide awareness program, they had a party. And it's not an expression. They had a huge house party, and basically stomped on my grave. Let's just say they didn't like me. Not one bit.

But as I stand here, staring back at my reflection in my mirror, I just relax myself. 'You've been through worse pain. These pricks don't know what they're saying.' I think to myself. 'Stay low. Stay un-noticed.' I sigh.

My grey eyes were staring back at me, hard and cold in their stare. I stood at about 5'11, and wasn't too muscular, but I'm not some scrawny thing. I had snake bite lip rings, plus my ears are pierced. My hair is black and shaggy, my bangs cut to a side, covering half of my face. I run a hand through it, slipping on black skinnies and a grey hoodie. I put on my converse and I set out to my car, a 2008 grey Chevy TrailBlazer.

I park in the lot, cutting the engine, but not getting out. I sigh, looking up, bracing myself for the hell inside that building that awaits me.

With a click, I pop open the door and step out, slinging my book bag over my shoulder. I shut the door, turning and walking into the doors of the school.

The halls quieted as I walked through them. I guess the news of my death being a lie hadn't swept through. Surprise pricks.

I walk to my locker, shoving all my books in it, getting ready for the year. Like always, people don't stay interested in on story for long. I'm just the same outcast as last year. The freak. The weirdo. I sigh for a moment. I grab my books that I need and I put them in my bag and slam my locker shut.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

"I heard that's his twin."

"I wish he had died. It would save us another year of his attention cuts."

Chatter fills the hallway that begins to empty. I continue to walk along silently, keeping to myself. Then, out of no where, a small thing bumps into me, losing its balance. I wrap my arm around her waist. Her long red-brown hair, flys around as she bumps into me, her papers flying everywhere. She looks up at me, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She says, moving out of my arms to grab her papers, her hands shaking. I raise an eyebrow at her frantic behavior.

"I'm Emily." She stands up, holding her hand out. I glance at it, then back to her captivating green eyes.

"You're supposed to shake it, silly." She reaches in my hoodie pocket, grabbing my hand and putting it on hers, shaking once, before letting it drop. I look utterly confused. Who is she?

"Damn, you're quiet." She looks at my eyes, which I look away quickly.

"What's your name?" She asks me. I sigh, walking away. 'I guess you'll have to find out.' I think to myself, a ghost of a smile operating on my face.

Emily's POV

Shit! I'm going to be late, I'm going to be late! I run down the hall, nervously checking my watch. Damn! Only one minute until homeroom!

I'm making good time when suddenly someone decided to put a brick wall in the middle of the fucking hallway! My papers go flying and I feel myself falling but something stops my body from hitting the floor. For a brick wall, it sure is warm, and soft, and smells good. I open my eyes and move my hair, locking eyes with the most gorgeous person I've ever met.

His hood was pulled up, shielding his beautiful face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I say, moving out of his warm arms and kneeling and grabbing my papers. God, I could feel his eyes on me!

"I'm Emily." I hold my hand out, standing straight. He looks at it, seeming lost.

"You're supposed to shake it silly." What's up with this guy? I reach in his hoodie, grabbing his hand, placing it in mine, shaking it, before letting it drop. Pity, now my hands are cold. He's looking t me like I'm insane! I'm insane?! I'm at least talking... To a total stranger... Who I bumped into... Maybe I m insane.

"Damn, you're quiet." I stare at his deep grey eyes, but he quickly moves them away without a word.

"What's your name?" I ask. His lips twitch slightly, but he turns and walks away. I stand there, completely dumbfounded by the quiet hottie that managed to make me feel like a lovesick puppy in less than fifteen minutes. That's a record. I sigh, quickly looking at my watch before I take off running again, this time checking my surroundings. I don't think I can manage another encounter like that anytime soon.