Jayden was running. Running away from the pitying faces of everyone at that fucking funeral. Running away from the people who were as distant as strangers- giving their "sympathies". He was running away from the people who killed her. "Grace," Jayden stopped. His voice faltered at her name. It hit him with full force. She was gone. He fell to his knees and screamed. Jayden would never forgive them. He could never forgive Them. It was not a suicide. It was murder. They killed her. Everyday, They had been ripping her apart piece by piece. Torturing her until there was nothing left to do. Until she was gone. The rain was pouring down hard, but Jayden didn't care. He promised himself he would find Them. He would find the worthless pieces of shit that did this and make Them regret it. Jayden had not only promised himself, he promised Grace. And he did not intend to break that promise no matter what. Jayden got up; his pants, shoes, and shirt completely drenched. He kept walking. Jayden kept his head down and his face was completely apathetic . He was looking for a place. Not a place. THE place. The place where his already shitty life had taken a turn for the worse. He opened the door slowly. Jayden stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Well not her - her picture. His finger lightly brushed the edge of the frame. He could still picture her pale face with her trademark smirk on her face. Smiling. Jayden hadn't seen that smile in a long time. Jayden kept walking- knocking the photo down as he passed. He got to her room and it was a mess. When he walked into her bathroom his breath caught in his throat. The bathtub was still filled. Nobody had thought to unclog the drain. The water was still subtly stained red with her blood. The pill bottles still lay open on the sink counter. But there was one more thing. A folded paper. Jayden reached out for it with a shaky hand. The paper was still cold and a little wet. He opened it gently.
Dear whoever is reading this,
I am dead. It's not my fault. They killed me. Because I was "different". I'm sorry Jayden.
- Grace
He was in shock. Jayden walked out of the bathroom furious; knocking down anything in his way. He had been right. They killed her. But why did it matter anymore? She was dead. Grace was dead.
Jayden walked out of the bathroom with his hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched. He looked like hell. Not a trace of emotion could be detected upon his face and his eyes looked as if there was nothing but a dark abyss of sadness. His face was ghastly and his cheeks were covered with dirt and stained with tears. On his arms were scratch marks of his own doing. Jayden lied down on Grace's bed in disbelief. It didn't seem real to him. It would never be real to him. But he couldn't fix it this time. He was alone. Nothing. No friends. No family. And worst of all, no sister. They killed her and he wouldn't forgive them. She was the best part of him. And now she was gone. Just because she was fucking gay. Because she was different. His head was pounding and he was raging with anger. But that anger soon transformed into sadness and he found himself drowning in a puddle of his own thoughts. Yet, he couldn't think. Jayden reached for the blade that took her from him. It was caked with her dry blood. Jayden brought the knife to his wrist. The blade felt cold on his skin. But he stopped. Grace wouldn't want this.