Living In Limbo

A Special Friend With A Sad Story

I begin to feel ill as a sickly sweet scent overpowers Seb's gunpowder.

I look up and take in the two Inbetweeners materializing on my bedroom floor.

A girl stands, slumped slighty against Seb, who has an arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her back.

Long, dark curls flow over her hunched shoulders and cover most of her face. Soft features lay behind the canvas of silky hair. Chestnut eyes peek out between the curls and they look dead but self-doubting.

She turns her head towards Seb, revealing deep purple, red and blue welts and deep indents around her throat and neck. Angry scratches extend beyond these.

"Ash, this is Zoella," Seb whispers, as if he is trying not to startle the girl.

"Hi," I smile carefully. "I'm Astrid. Please, call me Ash,"

I hesitate for a second. Recognition dawns on me. "A-are you..." I trail off but decide to go for it. "Are you Zoella Stanton?"

Fear flickers in Zoella's eyes and she leans even further into Seb who adjusts his footing to support her better and looks at me. "Yes. This is the most recent Inbetweener to join us," Seb looks worried as he wraps his arms tighter around Zoella, playing with a lock of her hair.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I don't know what to say. This girl died three months ago. At the age of 14. Just a year younger that me. She went to a highschool up north.

Misty representations of tears cloud her eyes and I gulp. I take in the rest of Zoella's shy appearance. Slightly worn black toms cover her feet, which are turned in an awkward position. Dark blue skinny jeans, ripped slighty below the knee on one side and a loose black Nirvana t-shirt complete her look. As she turns I noticed the shirt is ripped from her right shoulder halfway to her left hip.

Zoella takes what looks like a deep breath but can't be. "Do you want to see it?" She announces suddenly. "Do you want to see my death?"

My breathing hitches. "Uh," I don't know what I should say. "It's scary but I don't mind if you want to see it," her voice is very quiet. "Well, if you're sure..." I know she committed suicide. But I can't help myself.

My bedroom fades to black and another comes into focus. Posters adorn the walls and a single bed with purple and black covers sits in one corner of the cramped room.

Then I feel it.

A pain so consuming I can't think.

My vision clouds and refocuses.

My head is heavy and I don't know how I got here.

I look at my feet, dangling above the floor. The upturned stool lies less than a meter to my left.

A rope cuts ever deeper into my throat and I fight for every breath.

I'm struggling. Wriggling with all energy I can muster.

Clawing at the thick rope.

My eyes bulge and I can feel the pressure of the blood trapped in my cheeks and around my brain.

Gravity works against me, my own body weight ending my life.

I can't breathe.

I am not alive.

The last thing I see is a small, golden owl with emerald eyes perched on my bedspread.

I am floating now and I realize that was Zoella Izara Stanton's story. I am alive. I am back in my bedroom, staring straight into her eyes.

I reach out and feel a cold grip tighten on my hand.

The only thing that confuses me is that I don't know why she did it. That is what I had hoped to find out.

"Oh, Zoella, " is all I can manage before I have to choke back the tears.

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