Life's Worth

Another Ordinary Day

A/N: This chapter is short because it's mainly an introduction to the story to see if I would like to continue. I also didn't know where exactly to end it...

During editing, spell check would not stop giving me problems, so I fixed what I could then gave up. Please excuse the mistakes that you will probably find.

In case you didn't read the trigger warnings in the description, here they are: suicide, self harm, depression, familial issues, and other things I might add. With that said, you may continue.

ーXー

I jolted up in bed, coughing, feeling as if I'm suffocating. My body felt numb and I lifted my hands, turning them over a few times and pinching each of my arms just to know I'm alive.

"What was it this time?" I mumbled to myself, already having forgotten why I died after being in Hell so long. After a few moments, it came back to me and I cringed. I killed myself.

I sighed, letting my weight fall down with a soft protest from my bed as I did so.

I glanced at the beat up clock beside my bed that read it was just past eleven in the morning, and reluctantly rolled out of bed. My knees buckled, but I caught myself on the corner of my nightstand. I always have hated the feeling of getting back into my body...

In all honesty, I would have preferred to stay in bed all day, but I promised to meet my friends that day. I knew I would just be an awkward fourth wheel to a tricycle, if that even makes any sense.

Since I always woke up in my ordinary parka and ripped jeans, for whatever reason that may be, I only needed to find a clean pair of socks and my worn down boots. Finding breakfast before everyone arrived in ten minutes would be the hardest part.

After I'd gotten my boots on, I trekked into the living room quietly, knowing my parents would be fast asleep on the couches. It was a maze as always. Broken bottles and various other noise-making things were scattered across the floor around my parents. My dad lay on the floor, snoring, and my mother was on the couch, arm hanging down, mouth open, emitting soft sounds.

I carefully avoided everything on the floor and hurried into the kitchen. I found a single package of expired Poptarts in the cupboard and milk that was starting to curdle in the fridge. Other than that, food was scarce. I sighed, figuring I should let my sister have whatever's left when she gets home from her friend's house. I could always bum money off my father while he's drunk so I could at least get a little bit of groceries.

I snuck past my parents once again, this time to leave the house as quietly as I could. The cold Colorado air bit at the skin on my face, causing me to shudder and pull up my hood, pulling the strings tight. It always has been a habit to do that, even if no one can understand me when it muffles my voice.

I squinted to see three figures in the distance, slowly approaching. I stepped off the porch and ran towards them, a stupid grin on my face masked by my hood.

"Hey guys," I said, panting softly.

"Well isn't someone excited to see a movie they can't afford," Eric remarked with a smirk. God, I wish I could just bash his face in, but I know he'd just break my bones. Sure, I have strength, but I'm scrawny and weak compared to him. He's fat, maybe three hundred pounds or so, but some of it is muscle. Not to mention he's like six feet tall whereas I'm only five foot eight, the shortest of my friends.

I always get the feeling Eric Cartman has convinced me that he has the potential to be a future murderer. Scratch that, he is a murderer. I can't even begin to count how many times he's killed me. In fact, everyone in my small town has killed me at least once.