I want to tell you about how I ended up like this. I moved away from Trophy Club, a place that felt so right, so perfect. I was happy and had good friends. Then we moved to Colleyville. I was devastated. I wanted to stay back where I believed my real home was, but that wasn’t an option. I had only gotten two, almost three years there, why did I have to move so soon? My new “home” tore me apart, and I felt alone and scared. My old friends seemed distant and I wanted to be with them. My new school seemed like they hated me. One day I had people come up and tell me they hated me, told me others who hated me, and how much they hated me. I didn’t even know half the people. My life was a living hell. I was a Christian, I knew that God loved me, but he also seemed distant. I just wanted help. My friends started telling me about them cutting themselves. Suddenly I started cutting. Razors were the only thing I could find. It felt weird cutting, but I couldn’t stop. It just felt different, but I liked it. My mom started noticing how depressed I was and threatened to not let me go back to trophy club. I lost it. I hated her. She told me she wanted me on depression pills and with a therapist. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to go back to Trophy Club. I started making friends, but I still cut. On my stomach, legs, and wrists. I even carved a K into the side of my wrist. I found a pocket knife and started stabbing my thumb till it became numb. I was a mess and I didn’t like it. I still cut, though I’m trying to stop. I’m thirteen. And nobody knows but my friends. I need help and I know it.
The hate begins to crawl beneath her skin. That’s all that’s left now. Hate. As the pain begins to burrow through her heart, she picks up the keys. The world is asleep, and this time no one will hear her scream. The car seat is freezing, but she is numb. Covered in frost, she drives into the rain, into the lightning, the storm. Unaware of the life she once lived she dreams of death. She prays for escape — the only way out. Death. Flashbacks to her childhood and a memory emerges from a time when happiness seemed so in grasp. Reminiscence elapses now as she drives into darkness, just as her life elapsed so quickly, so painfully. She steps out in to the obscurity and grabs the rope. On this old bridge where she used to play, she’ll take her life. Feeling the earth on her feet one last time, she begins to climb toward pure bliss. Bereavement is upon us now. Lightning strikes a nearby tree, but not a muscle in her flinches. She’s like stone, so pale and so cold. At the peak where she’ll die, she ties a noose in the rope. Scenes start playing through her head, of the love she once contained. Binding the rope around a cold segment in the overpass, she secures the noose around her neck. Praying to the God that once abandoned her that it will hold. Her black dress is caught in the wind as she takes her last step, into the anguish and misery that we foretold but never stopped. Rain and wind blowing against her face, her dress, her cold pale body glowing beautifully blue, and images of love play through her mind. An irresistible charm bestowed upon us at this moment in time that will never be forgotten. Now in these shadows of darkness a melody began to play. The melody of a life being thrown away. A story is being told of birth, of life, of love, hatred and death. Hanging in the midst of all this pain, she’s breathing her last breath. Her eyes of ice fall shut and the wind blows her lifeless body back and forth through the murky depths of such darkness. Escape. A last gust of wind blows and her face is revealed.
Take a look.