One foot on the chair and the other floating in the air, the rope rubbing against my neck thinking I'm a disappointment, I don't want to live anymore. The salty tears streaming down my face. Then I lean forward and fall.
Early that morning I didn't want to get up. Crying to my mom that I hate school and there is no reason for me to go. Her excuse was she has to go to work and doesn't trust me staying at the house. I always tell her about the popular, snotty girls that bully me and push me around, but she doesn't care, she stopped caring after my donor dad left us for a bitch in Florida.
School is always the same. Right when I get there those girls walk up to me and pull my bag off me, push me to the ground and take everything from me. I don't have a phone anymore because one of them took it. After that happens everyone around me stares at me and laughs at me until I get to the bathroom. That's the only safe place now besides my house and class. I try my hardest to avoid them but they always find me somehow. When they do they kick me or push me into the wall. I have black and blue bruises all over my arms and legs.
My house isn't as bad as school is but it's still pretty bad. My mom comes home drunk every night at around midnight. I got used to that after the first 2 weeks. My mom doesn't care if I come home late or don't come home at all. She wouldn't even notice if I left forever. Any time I am home while she's home she usually uses my arms as ash trays, but once again i got used to it as I got used to her being drunk, but one night it got bad.
Friday night when I got home from the hell hole called school my mom was sitting in her comfy chair watching tv. She called me over to sit next to her, I already knew what she wanted.
"How was school?" Mom asked slurring her words.
"When did you start to care?" I asked annoyed and just wanting to go to my room.
"I've always cared you piece of shit this is why I never talk to you!" She said starting to raise her voice and getting mad.
"Whatever." I said trying to stand up to walk up to my room.
Before I could do that she got on top of me. Grabbing my hands and pinning me down. Slapping me and pinching me. My arms felt red hot. I can smell the whiskey in her breath as she yells at me calling me a mistake. A piece of trash that she wants to give up because she hates me so much. She has the weight on me so I couldn't push her off of me. I had to sit there and listen to her scream at me. I could feel my ears bleeding. She didn't get off until at least an hour later of her yelling and fighting me. Her voice was hoarse and I couldn't hear. I could barley stand up my legs burned every time I moved. I finally made it up the stairs to my room telling myself I'm never coming out of it and I will live here my whole life.
I found the rope I hid in my closet awhile ago because I didn't have the guts to do anything. The rope gave me splinters as I grabbed it and tied it. My hands are bleeding when I tied the rope around the fan and pull up a chair. It was so hard for me to get up on the chair that I almost started sobbing. The rope's around my neck now and all I'm thinking is I'm a mistake no one wants me here so I will do them a favor and kill myself. The blood from my hands are dripping on the floor now but it wont matter. I look down at the ground and realize how far down it looks. Then I fall.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Sorry
Teen FictionEvery time someone dies another story starts on the next person who's going through depression.