The cold bricks, which I had my back against, didn't seem to get warm no matter how long I sat against them. The chill of winter penetrated my jumper and t-shirt to attacked my skin. I couldn't feel my hands because they where so tightly wrapped around my knees. I felt my tears resting on my lower lids before they ran down my face. My life was a mess.

I've lost my friends, ruined my relationship with my perfect guy and slept with the biggest asshole known to man. Could life get any worse? Yes, knowing my luck, it would get ten times worse. It would probably involve nude photos of me going around the school or my grandma getting run over or something unfair. Why should I even bother? Should I just end it all?

I then released my hands from clutching my legs and opened up my backpack that was right beside me. I rummaged through it a bit; my hands were shaky and numb. Then I found what I was looking for. My dad's Swiss army knife. It only took me a few seconds to find the knife.

When I ran the blade across my left wrist it didn't really hurt. Maybe it was because it was so cold, or because it was meant to happen. I saw my blood run all over my cloths, seeping through my jeans, staining my top and I felt the blood drying on my hands. My vision started to fade. It felt like the world was spinning. Then I saw nothing except black.