Chapter 4: The "S" Word
The bell ringing brought me back to the present. I felt the dried tears on my cheeks.
"Miss Cross? Miss Cross, are you okay?" Mrs. Burkheart was kneeling at my desk, a look of concern on her face.
"I-Im fine." I lied. I grabbed my things and ran out of the classroom, escaping to the halls. I could hear Mrs. Burkheart calling my name behind me, but I didn't stop. I turned the corner, out of her sight, and quickly walked to my locker. I threw my things into my locker and grabbed my bag. I ran out the front doors and continued to run all the way home, tears blurring my vision. I tripped over my own feet and fell, biting my lip as I landed.
"Dammit!" I yelled. I got up again and limped the rest of the way home.
When I reached the front door, I got my keys out of my bag. Before I could put it in the keyhole, the door opened and my dad stood in the doorway. "Well the little brat is home early. Whatever. I'm going to the bar with some friends," he spat, walking down the front steps. Then getting in his car, he drove away.
I stumbled inside thankful he didn't ask me why I was limping or why my lip was bleeding. I threw my bag on a bar stool, taking a seat on the other stool. What did I do to deserve all of this? It feels like I'm a puppet in a sad play titled "Hopeless."
After wallowing in my thoughts a little longer, I got up and hobbled upstairs to my room. I collapsed on my bed. Grasping the sheets in my hand, I began pounding my other fists on my pillow. Tears began to fall again.
When I finally stopped crying, I sat up and pulled a notebook and pen from my nightstand drawer.
"I've thought about it a lot. The cold hearted S word that people tell you not to utter. I've thought about it ever since that night. The first way I decided on was the old-fashioned rope and chair route. But even though I hate my dad and most of the people in this fucking shithole of a town, I just can't bear the thought of someone finding me dangling from the ceiling by a rope with the chair toppled over at my feet. My next thought was of drowning myself in my bathtub. I thought this idea had merit, until I thought too much about it. If it didn't work and I just went unconscious, my dad would find me and I'd be vulnerable to whatever he had in mind. So my latest and the best alternative seems to be taking some pills with alcohol. Seems simple, right?"
I closed the notebook, put the cap back on the pen, rolled over, and fell asleep with thoughts of suicide on my mind.
YOU ARE READING
Welcome to my life
Ficção AdolescenteKayla is no where near ordinary. She has an abusive Dad and a terrible life at school. When a new student comes to school that has the same interests as her, she thinks her life will get better. Will it?
