The Price of Love - NIAM [IN EDITING]

26 March, 2012

Dear Mom,             30 March, 2012

The last few days have been tense. Liam still isn't at school, he has missed three days already. I am starting to get worried, did he really get injured that bad?

I have tried to promise myself that I would get better, but that all went down the drain on Monday. I cut again. 

I couldn't really help myself, the urge came and the more I ignored it the stronger it got, and so I eventually just caved in. It felt better at first but then a wave of guilt brought me lower than I had been originally. 

I feel so pathetic, weak, worthless. What is the point in even trying anymore?

Liam wanted to be on good terms with me, and he basically is now, so that means I am no longer needed here, right? 

Today I sulked through the crowded halls of school and kept my gaze on the ground. Multiple shouts of, "It's Humpday!" rang throughout the halls and I couldn't stop from rolling my eyes. 

I noticed a red and gray pattern in the tiles, something I've never really noticed before. I noticed the lockers are also red and gray, which is because those are the school colors. You tend to be oblivious that stuff when you are constantly looking over your shoulder, searching for predators.

I have come to the realization that I am a loser. 

A loser is a person who doesn't know how to stick up for themselves. A loser is someone who let's other people bring them down, and someone who doesn't talk or fight back and succumbs to bullying and things of the like. 

A loser isn't a bad thing until they are pushed into a harsh void of reality. 

I clutched my books a little tighter than usual and my eyes burned with tears. I am turning into Harry, and I will end up dying like Harry. 

My books were slapped out of my hands and my thoughts flew out the window. Instead, panic and rage filled my chest.

"Hey Fag," Louis spat.

I looked up and noticed that the halls were cleared. The bell must have rang, but I was once again so far lost in my mind that I had taken no notice of such happenings. 

"You're flower crown is stupid. Did Harry make it? Is that why you wear it?"

That one hit hard. "Just leave me alone," I said, keeping quiet. 

Louis grabbed my arm and shoved me against the wall. He leaned in, "Listen here you little skank, Liam is ours. I'm not sure what game you are trying to play but we will get to the bottom of it."

His breath smelt of rain, cheap cigars, and decay. It took everything I had to refrain from cringing. 

Before the duo walked away they did the worst thing imaginable. Zayn ripped the delicate crown of flowers from my head and threw it to the ground, they both stepped on it and crushed it like dirt. 

I started bawling. 

Yes, I looked ridiculous. No, I didn't care. 

I fell to the ground in a heap. I scooped the crushed petals up in my pale and shaky hands. They were filthy and ripped, they looked horribly wilted on top of everything. 

Louis and Zayn walked away laughing. How could someone be so cruel? 

That was it. The last straw. I've given up all hope, my last traces of Harry have been ruined and that left me completely alone.

My dad barely cared. His compassionate but hollow eyes would flutter in shame, his wrinkly face would turn down in a frown. Liam would be just the same, but he'd probably shed a tear or two.

I closed my fist tightly and the yellow petal was crushed more. I stood up and ran, I left my books on the ground because they were of no importance to me anymore. They had a few drawings in them, mostly Harry and I, but they were insignificant now. 

I didn't know where I was going, but I didn't care. I wanted to die. 

The world in front of me was blurry, the ground was swaying. I couldn't remember when it got so dark.

The ground was coming closer. It hurt. All throughout my body, there was pain. I was moving but I wasn't.

I saw a familiar block of grey. It was a tombstone. It marked where he died, and bittersweet memories started to play in my mind. His laugh. His unruly hair. His flower crown. 

It was all too real. 

I heard my name, called in the distance, but it was too late. I wanted to die, and I was going to. 

I pulled out a blade, the same one he used, and I forced it on my skin. It hurt, but not as much as the pain of losing my best friend. 

The distant voice is suddenly not so distant, but it was too late. I'm dying; I can feel it. 

I let the dark consume me. I let it take over my body and chill my bones, I let it sweep me away from the ground and into an isolate room. I let the heaviness crush me, and I let it happily take my life. 

Finally, I can see him again. My best friend, with the broken crown of flowers.

It didn't feel good, but it didn't feel bad. It felt like nothing and everything at the same time.

I pushed harder than I've ever dared to before. I pushed down until I couldn't take it anymore. 

I was going to die miserable, which is completely opposite of what of what I'd thought was going to happen. 

I used to think that we would all get old and die happy, with all our troubles and worries behind us. That was before my mom died, my dad worked more to support us, Harry and I came out and got our asses kicked for it, Harry died, and Liam came into my life in an odd way. 

I was so wrong, of course. I am dying young and painfully, because I chose to. 

My vision got blurry and my mind was foggy. I couldn't concentrate much longer, and I knew that I was losing too much blood. 

I was so stupid and cowardly, taking my life like this. But what more could I do? 

They said it gets better, but does it really? 

I looked to the sky, there was a tingling in my skin that reminded me of the little time I had left. 

"God, or whoever the fuck is up there, please reunite me with Harry. That's the main reason for this, I think. I'm not blaming him but.. Yeah. Whatever," I breathed out the last word. "And, even if I don't get to see Harry," I paused to take a shaky breath, "tell him that I miss him."

(To Be Continued...)