Suicide Savior.

Chapter One.

Everyday, it's the same routine. During the mornings I have school, I drag my body to school, detaching it from its warm cocoon. Sometimes, I want the sheets of my bed to restrict me from ever getting up, I want to be physically trapped, at least then that will match what is going on inside my mind. The world is cruel for setting school at a hour when I should be fast asleep. However, I seem to have no choice in this for I am only a mere girl with a

head of flaky brown hair I really should've washed yesterday. What can I do? I'll answer that rhetorical question. Absolutely nothing.

School is my destination from Monday right up until Friday. Right now, I am stuck in the middle of the week as I wait for the bus in the freezing cold, and as I stood there, my pale face turning a shade whiter (if that is even possible unless I've totally gone invisible), I nagged my stupid brain for not bringing a scarf or a hat, or a huge fur coat. I'm always like this: forgetful, unorganised, clumsy. I'm surprise I have a backpack clutching onto my shoulders right now.

Everybody in the corridors pretty much ignore me. After I heaved myself onto the bus, awaiting the long, noisy journey of school kids screaming, singing and whatever else was possible to do with one's voice, I had arrived at the pit of Satan's stomach. Sorry, I meant West Detroit High School.

It's no so bad here. If you ask Danielle, the high school Queen B every girl wants to be, school could be defined in one word: perfect. But to a loser like me, a "