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Author's note: there are a few triggers in this book, but this is for comedy, it's a dark humor book, I'm not making fun of suicidal themes. Its just that the main character copes with her problems/ depression through sarcasm and jokes.

Also, this story takes place after Aesthetic.

Okay continue.

Rosaline's POV

I couldn't do it. I chickened out...again.

Suffocate. I got scared I'd scream too loud.

Jump. I was scared I would just break a lot of bones.

Take pills. I barfed them back up.

This time I tried to hang myself, didn't work. I was scared something would break and I wouldn't die, I'd just fall and hurt myself on the chair.

Who would have thought killing yourself would be so hard?

The fear of failing and just being hurt scares me. The whole point is to feel no pain at all.

I untangle the belt from around my neck and sit on the edge of my bed.

I look over at the bright television on mute showing the breaking news. I turn the sound back up to see what happened this time.

"The new serial killer strikes again. We found out that the person is male, his name has not been identified yet." The reporter says, holding the mic closely.

If only I could be one of his victims.

That sounds bad, given that innocent people had to die.

If only he could take the people that are fine with it, like me.

That's it!

I'll find him and let him kill me. That way I won't have to do it myself.

I'm so smart.

I know that he's in the next city over. I could hop on a train and stay in a couple of hotels until then. It's not like I don't have the money.

I don't really have much of a life here anyways. I recently graduated highschool, barely. I don't really have friends anymore. So why the hell not?

My parents hate me, so again why not?

I spring off the bed and into the closet, grabbing my big duffle bag.

I stuff a few clothes and undergarments in, my wallet, toiletries and deodorant, and my phone charger.

///

I wait for my drunk parents to fall asleep and quietly tip toe out of the house.

I start my walk to the train station just as the sun was setting, never looking behind me. My earplugs jammed in my ears with the volume all the way up.

Here I come Mr. Murderer.

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