Countdown

Seventeen Days Left

I stared at the navy blue, starry ceiling above me, trying to coax myself into getting up and joining my family for breakfast. Come on, Grace, I thought. Just 17 days. You only have to keep going for 17 more days. Knowing that any moment, my parents were going to wake me up and bitch at me for lying here so long, I climbed out of bed, feeling my feet hit the cheap carpet of my bedroom floor.

"Gracie, can you come here for a second?" my mom yelled from down the hallway.

This was weird. I knew I wasn't in trouble. Nobody called me Gracie when they were mad at me. It was a pet name.

"Okay..." I said, confused.

"You're not in trouble, we just want to talk to you, alright?" she replied, gently.

I walked slowly down the hallway, a pit building in my stomach.

"Mrs. Ingrid called us last night about some concerns she had for you, sweetie. Apparently some friends tipped her off?"

"Mom, I know what they said. I'm fine, honestly. They're just a bit...overzealous. It's sweet, really. I'm not depressed, okay?"

"Honey, there's no shame in acknowledging you might have a problem. It's the first step to recovering."

"Really. I'm alright, and if I wasn't, I promise I would tell you. Okay?"

"If you're sure, Grace. We're just looking out for you."

"I am." I flashed a smile at my mom.

they think they can save me or something, but im already gone already dead it's over. why do they want me anyways im a horrible kid i get shitty grades and im too sarcastic and for the love of fucking god im a crazy freak im writing like a fucking serial killer why can't it be over i just want the pills to slide down my throat fucking hate me and everyone else so much...