Charlie McCleen

Charlie was alone. There was enough time.


2. What Happened To Charlie McCleen

(It was Friday night, Charlie was alone until Monday night as her mum was out on a holiday with friends. There was enough time.)

Charlie had had enough. She went up to her room and logged onto her Facebook page. She read all her messages from people asking who the hell she was, or saying she shouldn't of been born at all, that she was a huge mistake, no wonder her mum leaves her so often. There were pictures of people gesturing to her about how she should kill herself and Charlie took them all in one by one, slowly, reading and looking, knowing she was hated by everyone, There was one picture though that stung the most, a picture of Charlie and her mum the year before, and written next to it where the sentences, 'Like mother like daughter I suppose. They both deserve to die, they are both dirty whores who should use the bleach from their hair and place it into their blood. No one deserves to live with them.' Underneath were comments, laughing and agreeing with this statement that the pain got too much.

Charlie got up in a fit, grabbing and throwing everything at her walls, including pictures of her and family. She emptied all her draws onto the floor, her sharp blades finally being uncovered out in the open. She got each blade and chucked them onto her bed. She picked up a shard of glass from the broken photo from of her and her mum, the same picture as on Facebook, and ran it, hard, along the surface of her wrists, legs and face making 47 cuts altogether, the age of her mum.

She took a final look in her mirror and watched as the blood poured from her face and limbs, tears flooding down her cheeks. She took two step back and reached for the stolen carving knife under her bed, running her finger along the blade, drawing blood. She glanced over at her Facebook one last time, took a deep breath and forced the knife towards her heart whispering the words "I'm sorry". Suddenly she dropped the knife and fell onto her bed.  She lay there, cold and still, her bed sheets stained red with her blood and her scattered blades.

Charlie didn't need to convince herself she was dead anymore, she knew, and with that final thought, her last tear fell onto her bare arms, the scars of her pain finally breathing, her virgin ears filled with hatred remarks people made, her eyes dull and full of hurt. She no longer felt crazy, stupid, worthless or mad, she no longer felt anything, and that's the way she had always wanted it to be.

R.I.P Charlie McCleen

(02/12/1998 - 2013)

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