Choices

① choosing death

hey guys. new book, it's my first romance so please have some grace.

yes there are errors. yes I am aware of them. but i don't have much time to edit you know.

enjoy:)

~may

It was January 9, 2014, the first day of school after winter break. Everyone mindlessly stared at me as I walked down the hall. 

Interesting how though I've went to this stupid school for the past two years, people only start to notice me after a failed suicide attempt.

The majority of the kids at Winster High are rich kids who don't understand change and have never endured pain. They most likely have never heard the word 'no' in their life because they get everything they want. Winster High student just don't know what not being happy feels like. 

I walked past my lovely school mates and went straight to my locker. It was no longer blue, which is the main color of Winster High School. It was fully covered in black with the words 'YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED' written in a deep red. People were snickering behind me. As if I cared. 

Thing is, I don't care about anything. Any motivation I once had in my sad lifetime has escaped my body. 

It's not like I had some traumatic experience in my life or that I'm depressed or anything. I simply don't care. 

The cause may just be an accumulation of little things that have happened throughout the years. Like the fact that my parents are divorced. But nowadays, whose parents aren't? Maybe it was because I was deprived of a world with a pet at my side and loving family trips. It might be because I was never one to have a lot of friends or be that girl that everybody liked.

Or maybe there isn't a reason at all. Which is something doctors and therapists have a hard time believing.

If one were to truly and deeply think about life they would see that there is no point whatsoever. Everytime someone points out a reason to live it goes along the lines of; to achieve a goal, to be that one thing you have always wanted to be, and to love.

Yet, what people don't seem to understand is that none of those things exist. They are words created by  man meant to fit societies standards.

I opened my locker and grabbed my Chemistry textboook and continued my daily routine. I walked to Mr. Tamor's classroom and was welcomed with whispers and more stares.

Mr. Tamor coughed nervously.

"Umm, Abigal you're late."

"It's Abbi."

"Right, Abbi, you're late. You'll be sitting next Grayson." 

"Why the hell do I have to sit next to the dead girl!" Half the class roared with laughter. The other half was dead silent.

Clever. I thought to myself. How long did it take him to think of that? 

I rolled my eyes and sat down next to the ever so sweet Grayson Holt. Mr. Tamor was obviously too astonished to react for a while. Then he stuttered,

"M- Mr. Holt! Principal now!"

Grayson stood up glaring at me at stomped out the class like a child. I calmly opened my textbook.

"What page are we on?" 

It was December 25, 2013, when it happened.

At 10:00 AM, my mother came to visit me and dad, bearing gifts. I could hear her loud voice booming from my room. I was sitting at the large window that stood in the middle of the wall oppisite my door. My room was quiet. The walls were completely covered in light blue. The kind of blue you get when a thin cloud covers part of the sky. My bed was at a corner. White, fluffy, and hardly slept on. I preferred sleeping on my carpet floor or the cushioned area in front of my window. My dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun and I was wearing a loose shirt over tights.

I could hear my parents calling my name but didn't answer. I hated my parents. Plus I wasn't really in a christmasy mood.

I didn't find the idea of a fictional character breaking into my house, eating my food, and leaving random gifts very entertaining. Christmas is in almost all aspects a self absorbed holiday. 

I pondered this for a while. Actually, most everything is selfish. Even when people are doing unselfish things. They reply by saying, "Doing other things for people makes ME feel good about myself." Selfish.

I hate humanity. Everything we do is for what? Nothing.

After one achieve's a goal that they have been chasing for years they have nothing to do. So they look for a new goal. It is an infinite cycle of pointlessness.

I'm not much for religion but if there is another world after death, a better world, I wouldn't mind going there now. 

Then I had a wonderful idea; I'll never know unless I try. 

I walked downstairs, past my parents and to our black hole of a closet. They tried asking me where I was and what I had been doing, but I payed no attention to them.

I grabbed an old dirty rope and went back to my room. I stared at the rope for a while thinking about all the power it had. Then I tied a small hole at one end. I took the other end of the rope and looped it through the hole. My door had a hook at the top of it. A hook large enough to hold a rope. 

My desk chair stood near by. I brought it to the door and climbed atop it. I tied the rope on the hook, slowly put the loop around my head, and took a deep breath.

Then, I jumped.