Touch

Prologue

Yesterday I jumped off a bridge, today I'm going to shot myself in the head for the sixth time and I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do tomorrow.

Years ago, I decided not to stop. I'll try everyday to kill myself, I'll test every single way to die, I'm not going to give up. Never.

There needs to be one thing that can kill me.

No one is immortal.

I keep telling this to myself every day to get some hope, but three years already passed by, and I still don't seem to die any soon.

Three years.

Three years ago I found out I'm not able to die. And I figured it out in the must unsatisfying way. I got hit by a van. The last thing I remember is a big crash and pain flooding my whole body. Then the next day I woke up in a hospital without scars, pain and soul.

Since that day I tried every mode to end my life, because I cannot accept the fact, that I'm a mutant, a sick bastard, that just isn't able to die. Even looking into the mirror causes physical pain for me.

When I found out about this beautiful gift I ran away from the hospital, from my home and I never went back. I wonder what would've my parents think of me if I told them I can't die then would've stabbed myself just to prove them.

I heard that they were searching for me, but eventually they gave up. I'm not blaming them, I wouldn't miss myself either.

So now I'm living alone, but to be honest I wouldn't call this living. When I wake up, the first thing I do is that I eat mountains of painkillers and drink cans of bleach. Then I try another way of suicide.

To be honest, by this time I've run out of ideas, because I probably tried everything at least twice.

At first I did this because I really wanted to die, I was sick of myself, but by now I'm not sure why am I continuing. I guess, I got used to this lifestyle.

And what am I doing in the time when I'm not trying to end my life? Well, I actually live. Kind of.

There's a café at the corner of the street where I live. I like to visit that place and read there. The employees are really kind, they don't try to chat with me or anything, they just give me my order and let me zoom out of the society at the corner of the café.

About friends... Well I don't really have any of them. I had back then, but now I don't. I feel like I don't need anyone, and I have reasons for that.

For example, what would you do if you'd meet someone who couldn't die? I bet your anserw isn't something like: "Oh, I'd become best friends with them." No one would take my shit on their shoulders.

Another reason is, what if I will be lucky on day, and somehow manage to end my life? I don't want a bunch of people to cry because I earned what I wanted.

So this is it. My name is Helena Malone, I'm seventeen years old and this is my highkey fucked story.