I was on the ground, bruised up. I couldn't get up and walk. I crawled my way to a wall to prop myself up. I saw two of my teeth on the ground. My eye was bleeding, and so were my gums. My arm was bruised up pretty badly. I tried to stand up. I succeeded, but I wobbled a bit. I limped out of the corner that I was in. As I walked out I saw the sun as it blinded me. I was able to walk all the home, in my mom's apartment. I rode up the elevator to the 6th floor. I then entered room 666. It's ironic that this is the number for the devil, because ever since we moved here, nothing but bad things have happened to me. As I entered, I saw my mom in the kitchen. She was on the phone. She didn't notice that I even came in. I walk to my room and set my backpack down. I walked to my dresser, and opened the top drawer. In it was a knife. I sharpened the blade just last night. I brought up the knife to my arm. I put the blade onto my arm. Drops of crimson blood came from it. I then started cutting myself. The pain was excruciating. I shed a tear. What was the point in living? Instead of cutting myself why don't I end it right here? I raised the blade from my arm to in front of my chest. My arms were shaking. I dropped the knife. I couldn't do it. Why couldn't I do it? I walked back to my bag and pulled out my homework. I brought out a pencil and started working.
YOU ARE READING
A Life Worth Living
Teen FictionKen Fry lives with only his mom in the city, and they are having financial problems, and on top of that he gets bullied nonstop, he gets into fights, and sits alone at lunch. Soon, a boy much like him moves into town, and with him, Ken will learn wh...
