this is the prologe for the new story im writing, im going to be putting it up for the Watty Awards so all the votes and comments are really helpful. i hope you all enjoy the story. peace!
~Silence
Coldness, Crying, and Cutting: The Difference from Fantasy and Reality.
By: Whisperedsilence
Committing suicide isn’t easy, well that’s what people say. Someone will jump off a building because they have abusive parents, or shoot them selves in the head because someone close to them has died. Some people have a totally different story. Mine, well…is something you cant forget. ‘Dieing is a purpose, suicide is a fear, and living is a strength,’ that’s what I tell myself, but does it explain why I’m lying hear on the floor with deep red gashes covering my arms, while slowly my life flows out of me in red streams? Maybe but what I don’t get is why I’m still alive.
“Life…its over rated. It is something that we all go through and will continue to go through until something happens to the planet, that makes sure there is no possible way to sustain life any longer. We all have a string of life, and we all the scissors we can use to cut it short. One day someone will cut our string, or something will happen and we will cut our string our selves. That is the difference between death and suicide. Choosing to see your path and following it. At the end of your life, you will have no choice it is decided for you already. Were you die, how you die, and what happens when you die. But in the end that’s the only thing there is, death…some of us try to cheat death, others except it, even some deny the fact that they will die. I picked my scissors up and cut my string of life. I wanted to die, that’s why I’m here.” I said, Dr. Hillman stared at me for a while, then wrote something down on his clip board. I was in his office, laying on a couch like I do everyday since I was locked in here. Hillman’s office was brown with lots of books along the wall, a big desk, chair and the couch, I was currently on. The doctor looked at me with his steely blue eyes, his face was withered and you could see his age in his white, gray hair. He looked confounded at what I said to him. Normally I don’t talk I just sit here, but everyone has a right to know what happened, what went wrong with me. Or maybe I wasn’t the problem, that’s what I’m hopping he will find out.
“Grace, your father wont be happy to know you feel this way, Jayden wont think much of it either. Then again he doesn’t know were your are and we don’t want him to find out. But your father would like to see you, wouldn’t that be nice? ” he asked me, leaning forward in his chair slightly. I sighed and took in a deep breath.
“I never want to see him again. Its all his fault that everything in my life happened. Its his fault im the way I am, he’s a sadistic pig that can die for all I care.” I said
“tsk tsk, he wont like hearing that. I think I might just take you to him. Hes just down the hall, and is very excited to see you.
YOU ARE READING
