Cheryl is Underwater.

Ice cold.

The white mist wraps around you, your shivering body making it's way across the thin sheet of ice.

Why do people always make assumptions? It's like you talk to them for one second and they know your life story. Or what they think it is.

Your pale hands reach down, wiping the concealing layer off of the solid water below you, your lifeless eyes searching for something.
Which there is nothing, just the deep dark blue.
The same deep dark blue you'll fall into minutes later.

Your red hair tangles on your shoulder, and it'll be swept away from your face as hands reach out to pull you upwards onto the bank.

It isn't worth it. Is it?

Everyone knows the tale of Jason blossom, and how you two had gone overboard one day, for him to never return. How tragic.
But do they know what really happened?

No. Therefore, everyone assumes you've gotten over things, and that you're perfectly fine. It's too late anyways.

Your feet break repeatedly below, and your ears buzz off of the sound of the ice cracking slightly. It took you long enough.

The sound of voices call out, and you are left to contemplate to yourself. They're doing it to clear their conscious, not for your benefit.

Your legs straighten upwards and your eyes sweep across from afar, spotting similar figures that you spot regularly at school. You know they don't care, but if they didn't care, then they wouldn't be running over as -

Crack.

The ice sends you pummelling to the depths below. Too late. Your lungs fill with water and your body grows exhausted, and you let go.
Because it's time, it's time to go home.