Twenty Øne Reasons to Live

Chapter Seven

My Point of View

It's been almost a month and a half since I saw or heard from Tyler or Josh. Sarah was still in the hospital, and I really thought she had started to get better. I went everyday after school, and every day she asked me to tell her the story of Josh taking me to the hospital-but it's not like it ever changed. 

I could see the sheer hope in her eyes, and it destroyed me day after day. 

Curiously, I haven't seen Rider either. Nothing. Not a peep, a shove, or a harassment. It's like he just- disappeared. But it's not like I'm complaining. 

I felt empty... I did my best to ignore it, but every night when I lay awake my mind always drifts to the exact same place. Right now, it's pitch black in my room, and it's only eight o'clock. I just recovered from a migraine, so I had needed the dark. And I was watching the scenario right now. How light my heart felt then. How heavy my heart feels now. 

Deciding I was sick of seeing the same scene on a loop in my mind's eye, I picked up my phone and opened Instagram. It's not like I had much of a feed, anyone I knew from school who I followed blocked me the moment they found out about it. Oddly enough, some girls at school started talking to me when one of them saw my wallpaper (which I promptly changed)and soon enough, word got around that the weird girl in the giant black hoodie is best friends with the biggest hunk in the universe: Josh Dun. 

Hardly, but stupid girls like to exaggerate. It's just a picture, and I simply answered, "It was his idea." when anyone asked me about it. I didn't want to come off like another brainless fangirl.

I flicked my thumb down the glass screen, and one of the first things I saw was a picture of Tyler and Josh that Josh posted. The caption said 'Dayton, tonight'  It was a horrible picture, and they were making stupid faces. 

Hmmm. Dayton. 

That was two hours away. 

I looked and just below the picture it said '5 minutes ago'

My mind snapped back to Sarah, and my hands trembled, as I turned on my lamp. I grabbed my journal, and it fell open on my lap. My eyes locked onto to the little piece of glass I taped in there, with a poem surrounding it. The tip of the glass was stained a harsh crimson. I threw the book down, the pull to feel something- anything tugged so strongly at me. 

I rubbed the mangled flesh on my left arm, and then slid my sleeve down. I was home by myself. My entire body shaking now, I rested my stark white hands on my nightstand drawer. There was a compartment where I held all my.....................................

Something snapped in the back of my mind, and I retracted quickly, suddenly fearing my empty house. A certain jumpiness ran around freely in my bones, and I felt like if I turned around someone would be there, my worse half, perhaps and would push me to do the very thing I was fighting. 

I grabbed my coat, and stomped through my house. Mom and Dad kept money in the lid of a hideous Santa Clause cookie jar on the counter. It was their 'rainy day' money, whatever that meant. Last time I checked rain was free, but whatever. I grabbed a wad of money, and left without thinking twice.

Next thing I knew I was on a bus, watching as the lights whipped past us. Things are so much more beautiful when you're moving. I had just stolen money from my parents. I was on a bus. Why was I on this bus? What did I think this would solve, exactly? 

Shaking my head, determined not to second guess myself, I turned on my small, old iPod, and slipped earbuds in. I went through all my music, avoiding certain ones. I knew exactly what I wanted to listen to, but I felt stupid clicking on it. Finally I just caved and put on Holding On to You by well.................................you know.