The Suicide Letters

The Second Letter

I'm lying in bed, watching Doctor Who at three in the morning. I woke up about an hour ago, screaming from a nightmare, and couldn't go back to sleep no matter what I tried. 

I woke up, frantic, at two and then went back to sleep. Only to wake up at three, of more nightmares. That's when I gave up on sleep and turned on Netflix. I finish the episode I'm currently on and then bury my face in the pillow. I watched Doctor Who in the hopes that it would block out the memories of the nightmare. They didn't.

I mean, I've been awake long enough that the nightmares are kind of fuzzy now, but I still remember the cold and the darkness. And that's enough to keep me up forever.

I start drumming my fingers on the windowsill next to my bed, and try not to remember that day. 

I wait for the sunrise.

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It comes, and along with it brings a tidal wive of exhaustion. Great, now I'm tired. That couldn't have happened at four in the morning?

I swing my legs off the bed and get ready, trying to remove the dark spots under my eyes. Except they're not something I can remove anymore, they're a part of me, it seems.

I'm ready for school in record time, and I even have time to eat and apple before Katrina even comes downstairs. Her hair is curled, and she looks at my straight locks with a scornful face. I know she wants me to fight back, and tell her my hair is just fine, because she already has an agrument prepared. But I don't feel like it, on today of all days.

So, I shrug and grab a water bottle from the fridge, and head out to her car without her.

It's silent on the way to school, only being interrupted by the words of my sister, talking about some fashion thing that I don't give two craps about. 

When we finally reach the school, it's a relief and I open the door, all too happy to be getting out. Kat gets out with me, and as I go to walk away from her, she calls my name.

I turn around, one hand tightly gripping my backpack. 

She pulls her sunglasses up on her face, "Are you okay?"

With a start, I remember that her room is right next to mine, and that she probably hears my screams at night. I look at her, with her blonde hair and her bright blue eyes and her cheerleader body and her attitude to go with it, and I wonder how we ever ended up so different. Not only in looks, but in personality. 

We're day and night, me and her.

I nod my head, feeling a weight pressing into my skull at my lie, "I'm fine."

She looks at me for a few seconds before nodding and walking away, and I'm left standing by her car, alone.

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I don't sit at my usual spot in English. I don't see the point, seeing as how I'll just have to move when the teacher wants us to do our letters. I plop my stuff down next to Levi, and he glances over at me, before scooting his drink out of my way. I slide into the seat, and he's still still looking at me, one hand clamped around his travel mug. I set my water bottle on the table, and pull out my books.

He's still looking at me.

"Yeah?" I ask, turning towards him. 

His hair sweeps over his eyes, and he pulls the sleeves of his shirt down over his hands. "Sorry."

I shrug, "Did you need something?"

He looks back down at his papers in front of him, and there are black swirls all over it. My favorite color is black.