Careless

She tried to be careless. She let everyone believe that she was careless, too.

She wasn't going to let them see what was really going on. She wasn't going to let them see what they did to her. They wouldn't get that satisfaction. She wanted them to see the lies. She wanted herself to see the lies, as well.

She was so close to not caring. She was so close to letting her head believe what she knew in heart wasn't true.

She was almost careless.

She was almost free.

She was almost herself.

••••

She sprinted away from the building in which she attended school. It was about halfway through lunch when they finally got to her.

Around two months ago, she decided to put an end to the torture she had endured. Kind of. She promised herself she would ignore them. She would ignore their cruel words and hateful presence.

She stopped listening to them on the outside--on the inside she heard them loud and clear, but she didn't let on. She moved out of her house and into a small condo with a friend of hers so the abuse she suffered would stop.

Everybody thought she was okay. She smiled, sometimes even laughed. She no longer showed up to school with cuts and bruises. People seemed to like the new, careless Sandra Banafato.

Except for a few. Her father, on the rare occasions she ever saw him after the move, seemed to look at her with an all new burning flame of hatred. So did they. They came at her with harsher, closer to home remarks.

She let them slowly eat away at her heart and mind, but she didn't let it show. She didn't even seem fazed.

Sandra was called ugly and fat several times, those being less than a fraction of the names they said to her, although she was neither. Her blond, curly hair reached her mid back. Her stormy gray eyes were hard not to look into. Her skin was flawless. She had long, slender legs that didn't touch each other once. Her stomach was perfectly flat, maybe a rib or two poking out.

She had an older brother who died in a car crash. That's why she was abused. Her dad liked him much better and thought she was the one who should've died. Sandra was seven and her brother was sixteen. Their dad lost control and Ky was lost after only two hours in the hospital. Sandra was in for nine months. She missed a year at school, meaning she had to be held back. Yet another thing said about her. They said she was stupid. She was actually the smartest in the state. Her mom stands by and watches everything, not knowing what to do.

At lunch, though, she couldn't take it anymore. She let the words get too far in. She was done.

"Home," Sandra whispered to herself. "I just want to go home."

And so she ran. And just kept going. She went seven or eight miles, finding herself knee deep in the ocean. She turned around to the house in which she was born. Why had she gone there? This wasn't her home anymore. It was her father's and mother's.

She started crying as the waves lapped around her legs. She let the tears flow, keeping her ground.

A drop. And another. She looked up and saw it was raining.

She started laughing and ran up to her house. This was the happiest she had been in years. So many years, it was hard to tell. She bolted through the house and onto the roof. Sandra spun a couple times and sank to the ground, laying on her back, eyes closed, feeling the rain. She was still smiling and laughing like crazy. She was overcome with joy. All her cares and worries disappeared. Sandra was finally being who she truly was. She didn't care if anybody saw her and what they would think of her if they did.

The rain slowly started stop and her smile started to stop along with it. She started over thing, which was never a good sign.

She was on the edge of the roof, and suddenly, she was pushed.

There was nobody. She was pushed by her mind and her mind alone. Maybe her dad would be happy when he came home to find his daughter dead on his driveway. Maybe the people who tortured her would now smile, laugh, and keep making fun of her anyway.

But maybe, just maybe, her dad will cry when he sees the sight; look up to the sky and scream "why?" at the top of his lungs. Maybe, just maybe, those people will cry too, and one will start hurting themselves, and two or three more will go over the edge shortly after she decided to.

As her dad came home cried and screamed and held his little girl. His mom held him and cried along with him. The kids at school were all in such shock and sadness.

"I told Sandra to kill herself, and she ended up doing it," one said.

"I told her she was worthless and nobody loved her," another said.

And what happened?

Her best friend started harming herself. A couple of the other kids committed suicide.

Everyone came crashing down the moment she did. Everyone cared, but she thought they were careless when it came to her.

She's gone; she's dead; she's never coming back.

They realized this all, but it was too late and they knew it. They realized how cruel they were and how much more she deserved.

Years down the road she's remembered. She's never forgotten. The only thing is that she's gone. She will never be back because she ended it. Once and for all. She's left this place.

(A/N: So, yeah. This is fiction and stuff. Because everything I write is. This is sad.. But I'm depressed so my thoughts are sad. There's this video that made me cry. In it, the girl said "You're gone; you're dead; you're never coming back." And that's where that's from. It's a really good video. It made me rethink some stuff. Anywho. Sorry this is kind of really bad.)