S I L E N T

S I L E N T | O N E

Note at end <3 Enjoy <3

S I L E N T | Chapter One

I'm a confession that's waiting to be heard.

But realistically everybody has something to say, something to be heard by, a voice. Weather you choose to or not to use that voice is completely up to you, your in control and you make the decisions; I decide not to. Partly because I don't have just one confession like most people, I'm a whole life full of them.

My brain is deadly, it makes me question my existence, but then again many things do. In fact, every morning after I wake up I sit on the edge of my bed for a good ten minutes, staring down at my Star Wars socked feet, wondering if today was going to be the day that I listened to my erratic thoughts.

Wondering if today is a good day to die.

I can't even count on my fingers and toes how many times a day that question races through my mind. And I can't even describe how pissed off I feel at myself for not trying –attempting.

I laugh sickly to myself, whom I have had a love hate relationship with since the past –well forever. I don't get around too often, or make too many friends, so basically in other not so nice words I put the 'L' in loser, loner, and lunatic. Some of those commonly used words are self proclaimed, others are not. Don't even get me started on a "love interest", firstly I've never had a boyfriend that lasted longer than a day (news gets around quick,) and lastly it's just not something that has ever come up. . . I mean who would want me? (Other than myself obviously, because put aside the hate half of love hate I actually find myself okay, not awesome or kissable, but okay.)

I decided to skip second period today, which just happens to be my shitty gym class. There are many reasons for deciding to skip that class but to keep it on a less personal, or on less of a crappy sob story level –lets just say I don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of sweaty testosterone filled teenage boys who think they're all T H A T, and a bunch of bitchy, but seemingly less sweaty teenage girls who also think they're all T H A T. Sorry, but I'm not hot shit.

Besides, this dreaded staircase is more of a workout than gym class anyway, and let me tell you from personal experience, climbing the stairs of a five story clock tower every single day really works out your butt muscles, I'm not saying this to be funny I'm saying this because its true, but wastefully I still feel like I'm not in the best shape. No, I'm not overweight or anorexic. I'm just insecure, I've always been told that I don't see myself the same way others are seeing me, but hello I have eyes and a brain and I'm pretty sure you do too so how are we not seeing the same things? I don't get people and people don't get me.

Reaching the top of the time worn cement stair case I sigh. My life has been a repeating cycle of me feeling alone, even though I have a best friend I could easily go and talk to I just don't. It would feel weird to tell her about my life, about me. She's just so normal and problem less and if I told her about my baggage she'd probably see me as a problem and leave me, then I would really be alone.

That's probably my biggest fear, being alone.

Even though technically, if I can't really talk to my best friend properly than I am alone.

I close the heavy steel door behind me, brushing my hands clean of the orangey rust that rubs off the door. I keep my eyes trained on my shoes, like always. I keep walking, and walking, looking down at the concrete rooftop of the clock tower. I walk, and then I stop.

I stop when the tips of my shoes meet the very ledge of the roof, I hold my breath. With my eyes still down, I look at the ten foot drop, a drop that could kill. And that's always been my intention right? Slug up here everyday, head down, and hood up just to see if I'll do it. Just to see if I have the balls to do it, to make life easier for myself.

My body sways with the slight breeze and I breathe in, closing my eyes. I open them again, down at the five story drop, down, down, down, down. So far down.

A tear slides down my cheek, down my chin, and down the five stories.

Something I won't be doing today.

I sniffle and choke out a sadistic chuckle, what a coward I was. Standing here at the top of a building contemplating my death, contemplating if life was really worth it, and to be absolutely honest; right now life was worth nothing, it was pointless.

I turned back, flipping my hood down with a frustrated sigh. I guess today I was in fact going to make it to third period. I kick up ruble as I go, and just as I reach the large, steel door I catch something out of the corner of my eye.

My breath catches, heart quickening.

I wasn't alone.

With his back to me stood a tall, lean figure, looking down –no slightly leaning down to peek over the edge of the building. His hands were shoved in his dark jean pockets, shoulders strong but sagged.

Right away I could tell who it was by the dark messy mop on the top of his head and his large build. But that wasn't what gave his identity away, it was his shirt.

He is the freak in flannels.

He is Ryder Shay.

Hello :) Let me know how I did?? <3

Sorry I didn't get this out on Monday but I really wanted to make sure you REALLY got the idea of Brielle's personality. She definitely has so much depth to her :)

Please comment and let me know your reaction/ thoughts :)

Like for the next chapter ;D (maybe I'll post on time this time lol)

Thank's lovelies

– Bree <3