You know what I think? I think that one of the worst ways to die is to fall over a hundred feet down to the sidewalk below. Im being serious, for the longest time it feels like you're just being suspended in air. Now, I know you might be thinking that I committed suicide. And that's probably what the police will tell my family and friends'-that I committed suicide. They probably won't even do an investigation unless my parents make them because they don't believe that I would commit suicide.
And if they think that then they would be right. I have.... I had a happy life: I was head cheerleader; I was dating the star football captain-and for once our relationship didn't happen to be cliché one were the football player is cheating-who's insanely hot; I live with both my parents who have great jobs that pay them enough that they can spoil me and they rarely fight-and if they do its over who's turn it is to put the dishes away and to put the dirty ones into the dishwasher; and I have the best friends in the world-they understand when I just need to walk away so I don't scream at them, when I just need to cry to stop feeling upset about something bothering me, and they encourage me to try and live my dream everytime they hear me singing to myself... They really were the best friends someone could have...
Anyways, the reason im talking about death; my family; and my friends' is because one minute ago I was standing on the roof of our complex/apartment building, a little ways from the edge looking up at the stars and next im falling over a hundred feet to the sidewalk below.
YOU ARE READING
Falling For The Devil
General Fiction"I can't tell you right now. Make your choice. Get pulled back up and come with me without fighting, or plunge to your death that is waiting more than a hundred feet below you." the mysterious man holding onto my wrist says. "I choose...." I say. ...
