Behind Closed Doors.

Hannah is your normal teenager; going through emotional and social pressure, whilst her parents suffer a rough patch in their marriage. Suddenly, her boyfriend of eight months breaks up with her, and her whole life goes down the drain. When will it all stop?


4. The End.

I sat on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, ripping my school tie off and throwing my bag into the bath, not caring if it was wet in there or not. I didn't care any more. I told myself that they weren't worth my tears, but despite that, I felt my body shudder into one big sob. 

I was a sudden realisaton, but my heart sank when I understood that there wasn't any point in fighting them anymore. I knew that it wouldn't stop, that they would carry on and on until I was literally the dirt on their shoes. I started to have a conversation with myself. I felt like I was going insane.

So why make them put the effort in? Why should you have to suffer so long, when you could give them what they want so instantly, so effortlessley, in the painful way you deserve? You don't have a hope in the world of this stopping, unless you put and end to it yourself.

Are you sure? Surely I'd be able to stop it somehow...

No. You won't. It will never, ever stop. Do you know why Rob broke up with you? I do. He thought Josie was prettier than you. He was embarrassed of you. You looked too ugly, possibly even too fat. Why did you give up jogging? Josie jogs all the time. You see her, don't you? Everday you watch her jog past your window whilst you're sitting on your fat backside, eating and watching TV. Doesn't that make you feel fat? It should.

I'm not fat.

Yes. You are. You're hideous.





NO. I pounded my fists on the tiled floor, ignoring the pain in my knuckles. The pain felt good. It felt good?

You see? You want this. You want it.

No. I don't. Of course I don't.

Well, none of your friends like you. They never liked you. They tolerated you.

I don't believe you.

Sophia used you. Josie talked about you and stabbed you in the back. Juliet ignored you for two weeks because you didn't reply to a single text. How can you be so stupid? They hated you.


Yes, they did. You're such an idiot.

That's right. I am an idiot. I don't deserve this.

No, you don't. You should do something stupid, to save them all the trouble. They wouldn't care, then. They would leave it all alone, they would forget about you.

I got up, and pulled my bag out of the bath feebly. It was wet at the bottom, but I managed to salvage a piece of paper from my French book. I grabbed a pen from my blazer before tossing it on the floor. I wrote in big, shaky letters 'I'M SORRY.'

'Mum, I know you'll be the only one to read this and the only one who'll care enough to understand me. Dad, I'm sorry I disappointed you. Maybe, when James is old enough, he'll be the son you always wanted. James, try your best in school, ignore the people who don't understand you and be grateful for those who do. I hope you don't mourn me too much. I just can't do this anymore.

Last weekend, Rob dumped me. On Sunday, I saw him holding hands with Josie. That was a recovering period of a day. And today, well. I can't begin to describe my humiliation. I was called an 'emo' , people accused me of self harming, and they all laughed. This wasn't just Sophia, Juliet and Josie. It was everyone, all years, boys and girls, I swear even a teacher was chuckling at me. Rob didn't show any sympathy. 

I know that no one really likes me, and I'm okay with that. Just as long as I don't have to suffer being alone anymore, which is why I'm writing this, I guess.

I'm sorry. I hope you don't hate me for this, I love all three of you. Don't blame yourselves, it's entirely their fault, not yours. 

I love you. Don't ever forget me as the happy person I was before all of this. I'm so sorry.


I left the note on the floor, crumpled and tearstained on top of my bag. It was the last string of my life, being detatched from my being like a thread being cut with rusty scissors. 

I was insane. I really was insane. In a trance, I stood up and turned on the tap for the bath, the hot one, not the cold one. In my blazer pocket was a packet of paracetamol that I kept for emergency. I took four. I didn't like the idea of overdosing, especially because it's supposed to be extremely painful. The bath filled quickly, and I climbed in without taking my uniform off. I felt tears slide down my cheeks as I muttered goodbye and closed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion wash over me. 

The last thing I saw was the unlocked bathroom door. 

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