(The following contains suicide, read at your on risk.)
September 12, 2014
"So, Erin, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself." said the woman standing across from me. Her name tag read: Melissa Roberts, student counselor. Her hair was red and small ringlets hung around her face in a whirlwind of more red. Her nose was crooked and it made me even more annoyed than I already was because there was nothing I could possibly do to fix her crooked nose.
"I don't want to talk." I say, bitterly.
"Okay, well, what do you want to do?" she asked nervously.
"Leave," I say almost in a whisper. "I just want to leave here."
She gives me an almost sympathetic look. "You can't leave. Not until you put down the gun, Erin."
I furrow my eyebrows at her. "But I'm the one with the gun. So, shouldn't you let me go out of safety for yourself and the others?"
The counselor thinks for a minute. "I suppose that would be the wisest choice. But, if I did that then I would be putting more people at risk for letting you go in the first place. Now wouldn't I?"
"I guess so." I mutter.
I didn't like this anymore than she did. I just wanted it all to stop. The hate, the anger, the bullying, why did it have to happen to me? Why can't I just be a normal girl with normal friends and a normal life? Why did I have to wake up this morning and feel so horribly about myself that I wanted to off myself in front of my entire school?
"You know, I didn't ask for any of this. I just wanted everything to go back to normal. I just wanted to be happy! Don't you understand, Mrs. Roberts?" I say, pleading to be seen as just a troubled teenager and not a crazy girl with a gun.
"I know, and I'm sorry for your troubles. But you - "
I interrupt her. "Your sorry?" she gives me a confused look. "I don't care if you're sorry! I needed help! I came to you and you just told me to ignore it! You said they were just jealous! Jealous people don't kill your dog. Jealous people don't hit you in the locker room. Jealous people don't make you a social outcast. Jealous people don't torment you day after day after day after day! That just doesn't happen!" I scream, the gun wavering in my shaky hands.
"I was supposed to be normal! Normal people don't do things like this!" I scream some more.
The cops around us already had their guns ready to fire at me. I knew that if I stopped now that I would still be severely punished. But, with the tears streaming down my face and the gun in my hands and the pain I felt so intimately - I just wanted it to end.
So, I do what any scared freshman girl would do:
I kill myself.
A/N: So, I know this was one of my more depressing stories to start with. But, oh well. Anyway, if you could just give me some feedback then that would be tremendously helpful to me. (P.S. It changed the font when I tried to edit the story, so sorry about that.) Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for tomorrow's update! :)