Chapter Twelve:
Over fall break, I spent some time with Whitney. We went to the cinema and we went out to lunch and we got coffees and pastries together. I made an effort to hang out with her a lot more since I knew that soon enough she wouldn't have me as a boyfriend anymore.
I also spent lots of time with my parents. I practiced my violin a lot. It sounds a lot less like a caterwauling cockatoo and it's starting to sound like a normal violin now. My parents are very proud. I feel a little bit guilty, planning my death when I know how hurt they will be, but they must move on. They must. I will make them move on. Mum and Dad are still in their late thirties. If they tried for a girl, then they would have a good chance at having one. Or they could adopt. It would be their dream. I'm not going to steal that away from them.
It's going to be a win-win situation.
While Whitney and I were waiting in line at the cinema to pay for our tickets, she wrapped her arms around me and stood on her tiptoes to whisper into my ear.
"I love you."
It sent ripples of something like sadness through me. Here was a lovely girl who loved me. And here was a depressed boy who didn't even love himself.
I hugged her back and planted a kiss on the crown of her head, but I couldn't make myself focus on the film at all, I was only thinking about how hungry I was, how my ribs stretched my skin almost painfully, how Whitney's hair smelled faintly of mangoes.
It seems that lately I've been finding good things in life. Aspects of life that I would like to experience. Which is somewhat aggravating because now that I've decided to die, to rest eternally, life is persuading me to keep on going.
I refuse to listen to it.
Every time I look into the mirror, I see a hideous creature.
But life sees a boy worth saving.
I mustn't do what life wants. I must do what I want.
But even as I say that, even as I think that, I can't help but notice how selfish I am, taking my life because of reasons only I know and understand.
I am selfish.
Just one more reason to die.
YOU ARE READING
Thirteen
Teen FictionShe's waiting for the day when she can sink the knife a little deeper, throw herself down a little farther. She is tired. She wants rest. She is waiting. He's waiting for the day when his stomach shrinks into nothingness, until he can take his last...
