Your P.O.V
I was just laying on my bed, scrolling through Instagram posts before I stopped when I found one.
It was my best friend Aphmau with Aaron, the guy that I told her I had a crush on. Great, I thought. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse.
Recently, I had fallen into a state of depression. Instagram was never really my thing, but I still gave it a try. Although the kids at school bullied me and pushed me into lockers, Laurance was still by my side. He still stayed, even though it caused him the awful smell of garbage cans when stuffed in them.
I looked at the blade on my bedside table. It was still stained with fresh dripping blood. I had told myself that I would never cut myself before, but now, I just couldn't seem to resist. The pain had let me known that I was still alive. That I was still human. And unfortunately . . . that this wasn't a nightmare.
At first I thought it was all a hoax. A little prank my friends pulled for my birthday. But no, they had really betrayed me this time. Left me alone in the dust. They just seemed to . . . snap.
I got up from from the floor and limped towards the razor. The blood had turned to crust and the table was stained, and so was a locket that had a picture of Laurance and I in it. He was the only person in my life that cared. My parents disowned me, my sister doesn't contact me, and my brother doesn't even come over.
I rubbed my hair with my hands in frustration. "I'm so sorry Laurance . . ."
[Or if you don't have hair, just imagine your rubbing your head. Xoxo]
And suddenly, I realized that I never loved Aaron. I loved Laurance. But he didn't love me. He never has, and never will, no doubt about that. I got up and texted Laurance:
'Laurance, I'm sorry I couldn't stay strong. I'm sorry that I couldn't be a great friend. I'm not one for mushy long messages, so I'll try and keep it short. This is the last time you'll hear from me. This is goodbye. And Laurance . . . I love you. You will forever be in my heart—or what's left of it."
I hit send. And then, I got up and reached for my keys and left the house.
The car is in the garage, I remembered. It'd been so long since I got up . . . the only memory of this house I have is my room. I sped all the way to the store. I didn't have any rope at home, so I decided to find some here.
"Excuse me," I asked the manager, "do you know where the rope are?" Anywhere was better than this forsaken planet.
"Yeah! There right in aisle 7!" He said. I mumbled a 'thanks' and headed my way there.
What a coincidence.
The number 7 was a number of death. It was my favourite number as a child . . . until I found out its meaning.
To me, 7 was a pretty number. Although I didn't know why, there was this undefinable element It had.
Maybe my fate was death?
Darling, everyone's fated for death. It's what comes after it is the problem.
It made sense that the earth would've formed from science, but religion? It made sense as well. As far as I know, Nasa hadn't found any form of intelligent species. But I've been cooped up in my bed for too long, I wouldn't know.
Anyways, after i found the rope, I went to the store clerk to buy it.
"Morning, slut." She said to me. I recognized her immediately. It was Annabell, one of the girls at my school.
"Make it quick." She, once again, said. She looked at the rope in my hand. She laughed.
"Trying to guilt trip me? Bet I'll see you tomorrow." It's okay to care, I thought. Please, for my sake and Laurance's, stop me right now. Show me you care and stop me from killing myself.
I stared at her for a while. No foreign emotion and popped up. "Well what are you waiting for?"
I slid the rope to her and paid for it. I sped home, but got stopped by an officer along the way.
"Miss—" he started, but didn't finish his sentence as his eyes locked on the rope in the passenger seat beside me.
"Don't try and stop me. I don't want to live in a world governed by money . . . I just want to live. I want to be able to wake up one morning and sit beside a window reading book while it's raining outside. I want to be at peace." I looked away. "But unfortunately, that'll never be able to happen. Now here's your money and please, leave me be."
I've never given a speech.
But somehow, that guy managed to not care and leave. Is this what the worlds really come to? Or is it just how I portray it?
I wondered what would've happened if he came after me.
Would I have stayed?
But once I'm home, I see Laurance at the front door. He turns toward me and sees the rope.
But I quickly dash to the back door and get in, quickly tying up a noose and standing on a chair. I kicked it and let myself go limb.
Laurance—somehow after minutes—managed to break the door and get in.
"(Y/N)!" Words so simple and plain that'd let loose from his lips managed to make me want to live again.
But it was to late. I was long gone.
But still, his attempts to make me live again were continuous, and he didn't stop. Tears were rapidly flowing from his eyes. He only stopped when he broke my ribs.
I became a ghost.
Without even any knowledge, I instinctively knew what to do.
I grabbed an unread book from my bookshelf and turned on the music. Laurance, though, didn't seem to notice any change. And so, I figured changes done by ghosts can't be seen by the living.
I walked towards the window and sat down. It suddenly started raining. I flipped the book open to the first page.
"Chapter one . . ."
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HAH BICH. YOU JUST GIT FOOOOOOLED
THIS AINT NO SMUT. THIS AINT NO LEMON.
THIS
ISSSSS
SPAARTAAAAAAAAAAAATATAS
JK ITS FLUFF.
