31 days still the suicide
The day I die will start off unusually well. I'll wake up on time. I'll do my hair and make up and put on a cute outfit. I'll run downstairs and kiss my parents on the cheek and tell them good morning. I'll get to school on time and participate in class-something I never do. The day will be perfect, and on my way home from school, I'll gulp down a bottle of QuikDeath. I'll cling onto last bit of my life I have and collapse in our front yard. My dad will see me lying on the ground, dead, when he comes out to rake the leaves. He'll scream for my mum and they'll start crying and shaking my lifeless body. And then, one day, they'll find this letter, along with many others, and they'll know it's their fault. My parents caused this. They're the reason I no longer have a battle my inner demons-now, I am the demon. A few months ago, if you had asked me who I hate most, I would've said something childish, like my parents. I'm changing my answer. I hate myself.
"As much as I hate doing work," Calum says, startling me, "it'd be nice if you were answering the vocab questions rather than writing in your diary."
"It's not a diary," I snap, shutting my notebook and shoving it in my backpack.
"Pleas. I bet you write about all your feelings in there." He lowers his voice, "and your secrets."
I couldn't deny this, of course, and that pissed me off. Maybe my black spiral notebook was filled with all my personal thoughts and secrets, but it wasn't a diary-at least, not to me.
When I don't respond, Calum leans closer. "I'm right, aren't I?"
For aa moment, I feel extremely vulnerable, as if Calum has opened my brain and is shuffling through my mind. My jaw locks and I furrow my brows. "What did you get for number three?" I ask blankly.
"Number three? You haven't even started number one!"
I stare at Calum for a few seconds, completely done withe his shit. Then I stand up, grab the bathroom pass, and leave the classroom.