Kiss You Goodbye
Hi So I wrote this story because I felt like exploring a new type of book theme, I guess it's kinda morbid but comical in some areas. Her name is Arianna Scott, and she wants to commit suicide for her sixteenth birthday, in about three months. Hope it somehow changes your perspective, but at the least you like it.
They're watching me. I'm their experiment; how long it will be before I break into tiny little pieces, they wonder. They crave to see me flinch at cruel words and shiver at their dark hoots of laughter. They take my backpack – it's not my fault, it's not my fault. I keep telling myself if I leave it long enough they'll stop. They are relentless. Amy Crowe, Thomas Matherson, Jenna Pot are the leaders.
"Ha-ha! Mona, look at what this little whores wearing! How short is that skirt?" She pinches at my pleated skirt, which to me doesn't seem that long and is all I can wear until my only pair of trousers is repaired. Then Thomas tries to lift it up. I find myself squealing and trying to escape hopelessly. I'm surrounded by all of them. My only offence to this jury is my existence, which is why… (deep breath) I won't go back on my decision to take a life. Take my life.
I'm too numb to give a damn about who I am, about how I can make things better. My family - or should I say my 'mother' – comes home from work, wine bottle in hand, and gets pissed on the sofa. I hate myself for having to watch her; my older sister, running round with new men every week, not worrying about anything. No one cares; no one learns from mistakes, people never change. I won't miss anyone or anything. How could I possibly miss the dull black gates that keep me in school, keep me in torture? How could I miss Amy and Thomas and Jenna and the lot of them? How could I miss my family, who haven't noticed me in years?
The only thing I could possibly miss is my Dad, if he were here. He died at sea, courageously. He died a true man, a true father, but he doesn't realize the destruction he left behind. Am I a coward for wanting the end this life, or am I brave for facing death? I ask myself this a lot. Only three more months of asking myself this, and on the stroke of midnight, on my sixteenth birthday I will be gone. Why live through another agonizing year when I can sleep for eternity.
"Get the ball, Miss Scott." Mrs Pore, the P.E. teacher says coldly. Her eyes contain the slightest reminiscence of a struggling marriage. I feel hard, cold sympathy. The boys are playing football closest to the hedge where they lost one of their balls, and since I have no kit today, I think my punishment is getting it back for them. The small group peer at me from their conversation – I reach in through the brambles, cut into by thorns, and bring out of damp, muddy ball. I throw it back to them with terrible aim and some snigger as they kick it back into the field. One remains, staring curiously. We catch eye contact; he's not from around here, he's new, he's… different.
I walk slowly into Maths - I'm late. Oh god. Everyone's gazes fall on me like a blanket of snow, cold and frosty. The teacher doesn't give me a second glance, and instead exchanges a pitying click of the tongue and marks me late. If he pities me as much as I'd hoped, he would mark me in with the others, just to be nice. But butterflies die easily - so does hope. Mr Gordon beckons me to a seat that I'm sure is empty, until I notice the charcoal eyes set in the pale skin. The new kid. I sit furthest away from him on the tiny desk because I know there's no room for friendship between us - he'll turn out like the rest of them. He'll murder my soul a little bit more; but in three months he won't see me ever again.
By then, I'll be nothing but a dug-over hole in the ground, and a piece of rock with my name engraved.
Arianna Scott
1996-2011
Love you always,
For eternal sleeping nigh.
When midnight strikes we,
Kiss you Goodbye.
