(None of this is real in my world. Maybe in yours it is, but this hasn't happened to me specifically.)
There's this girl. She was sixteen. In her desk had a note, which some of the words were smeared, only in a little circle, though. It was similar to the one on the stool at her house.
Wait, I failed to mention she was hanging there. Hanging from a rope. The rope was attached to the top of the stairs. The cops say she must have jumped, she only suffered a little. Only a little. She still suffered.
I knew her. She was my best friend since childhood. I knew she wasn't okay, but she was genuinely fine when I went to band practice. My mom came to pick me up suddenly and took me to her house. She had a grim look on her face, but I ignored it.
The note on the stool had read:
"Dear Best Friend,
I'm sorry, you don't deserve this much pain. But I will always be with you, protecting you.Dear mama and pa,
I love you.Dear world,
You hurt everyone I love. I hope you're happy...Goodbye"
I saw her as soon as I walked in. Nobody had touched her, her parents hadn't called the cops yet. I slowly reached up and lifted her while my mom undid the rope. I carried her to her room, her bed freshly made with tear drops on it.
This must be recent.
I brushed her hair and changed her into her favourite dress and jewelry, made her look her best. She wouldn't want me to do that, but I'm in shock. So I have to.I asked everyone for a moment in the house to clean it up by myself. They left for lunch.
I grabbed the rope and pulled it to the top of the stairs, making sure the knots were firm.
I wrapped it around my neck, and jumped...
"I'm sorry mom, dad. I had to go to. She's my best friend.
Check her desk at school.
I love you"
YOU ARE READING
Broken Wings
Poetry'For someone so small you're pretty strong. For someone so brave you're pretty shy. For someone so observant you're pretty abnormal.' For someone like me it's pretty hard to decide who I wanna be or where I want to fit in. So this isn't exactly poet...