Silently, I walked home. Alone. I was always alone. I put my headphones in my ears and blasted my music to drown out the echoes in my head. Echoes of the things they said. They, my so-called 'friends' said the day they left me for the new girl just because she was prettier than me but hated me. For most people, losing friends isn't a big deal, but for me, it's the hardest thing to deal with. Most people just make other friends, but everyone around either doesn't know or doesn't care about me. I snap back out of my thoughts and try to focus on the music, but I only hear the voices. 'We never liked you!' 'Why would we want to be friends with an emo like you?' 'You're an idiot to think you could trust us and be our friend!' The last one hurt the most, I thought I could trust them with my secrets, the depression, the cuts,the fear. They threatened to tell everyone and I begged and pleaded not them not to, but they still did. Great, my reputation ruined more than it already was. The girl who liked different music and wore different clothes, now also known as a cutter. This was all my fault for being so gullible. I knew they meant it, I tried to look for any sign of guilt or fear on their faces, but I couldn't find anything.
Arriving home, I unlocked the door, raced upstairs and sat on my bed. 'Today's the day' I thought. I heard their voices, echoing, 'you should just kill yourself, no-one will care anyway. I decided to take their advice, it's not as if I had a anyone to live for, anyway. It's not as if anyone will care. I looked around my room, found my blade and got some strong bleach. 'This should work' I thought. I thought about how much happier I would be, how much people would be happier with me not around to mess everything up. I wrote a note to you sister, the only person who really cared after mum and dad died. I started to write:
'Dear Lily, I'm so sorry for what this will do to you. I just can't take it anymore. My so-called 'friends' left me and told everyone about my secrets, about depression and cutting. Thank you for being there, for being the only one who cared. Which is why I'm writing, to say goodbye. I love you Lily,
Love Sophie'
I took the blade to my skin one last time, feeling the relief of the blood. I cut deeper than normal. Deeper and deeper I went into my wrist, until my vision went fuzzy. Then I took the bleach and drank a massive gulp until everything went black. I faintly heard my sister rush in after hearing me collapse, but nothing else, everything faded.
In most stories like this, you would hear how they woke up in hospital with her friends by her side, apologising, and everything would get better. The person would recover and they would ditch the new girl and there would be a happy ending. Not this time. I'm dead now, a ghost. I watch my friends without the seeing. They did t care that I died. They were a bit shocked, but not sad. No-one was sad, except Lily. She saw my body on the floor, lifeless. She read he note and broke down on the floor in tears. She rushed me into hospital and waited for me, even phoned the school. The doctor came out high a sad look on his face and asked her to come into a private area where he broke the news. I was dead. She asked to see me, tears in her eyes, so hero ok her to me. She hugged me and repeated over and over that she was sorry. I don't know what she's sorry for, it's me who should be sorry. She quit her job and didn't speak to anyone of months.
That was a year ago. She's recovering now, but I stay by her to check she's ok. My ex-friends fell out wit the no-longer-new girl, and realised what they had done. They cried for ages and went to my grave to apologise. Everyone's too late to apologise now. They will just have to live the rest of their lives, knowing that they caused someone's death. I can see their thoughts. They wish they weren't so mean and hadn't left me. The other girl wishes she hadn't made them leave me, because then we could have all been friends but she never gave me a chance. They're too late now. They're all too late. They should have thought before they spoke. They should have realised what they were doing to me, but they're too late now.
