perfection.

[noun] the state or quality of being perfect.

perfect.

[adjective] having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.

skye miller.

[noun] not perfect.

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There's something about the word perfection that Skye's always loved. Per-fec-tion. Ten letters, three syllables, one word.

She craves to be perfect, but don't we all? This world is just full of fakers who cheat their way to the top, not caring about how many people they knock down in the process, how many lives they ruin, how many hearts they break.

Perfection isn't really what it seems to be. Skye has this image of the perfect girl crafted in her head—she's drop-dead gorgeous, talented, nice, and popular. But she's slowly beginning to realize that those types of girls don't exist. You can't be nice and popular at the same time. Even if you are, you have to sacrifice something else. Those seemingly angelic girls are really very insecure and have flaws, just like the rest of us.

Barbie dolls are the only perfect people, and in the end, they're not really people. Skye Miller learned this fact just a little too late.

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It's just another normal day at school, nothing special, really. But for Skye Miller, it was the most important day of her life, or what was left of it, anyway.

No one knew what she was going to do except for her. Even if she told them, they wouldn't care. They never have. Students walk by Skye like she's invisible and unimportant. She's pushed by a few people; her shoulder slams into the locker. She grits her teeth to prevent herself from screaming out. There are tears in her eyes as she turns the dial on her locker. Her locker neighbor, some boy who has never even bothered to say one word to her, not even a simple hello, pushes her out of his way as well.

"Excuse me," Skye says. It comes out as more of a whisper. "Excuse me," she says again, louder this time. The boy ignores her. She leans against someone else's locker, not being able to get to her own. She's pushed again by the locker's rightful owner, sending her slamming into her locker neighbor. "S-sorry," she stammers. The boy rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath that Skye isn't able to hear.

The first bell rings just as the space in front of her locker finally clears out. She has five minutes to get to class. Skye opens her locker wordlessly. She sees her reflection in the mirror hanging on the inside of the locker door. She sees a girl she doesn't even know. Her eyes are hollow, her lips are chapped, and she looks like the life has been sucked out of her. Skye tries to remember a day when she was smiling and actually cared about her appearance, but nothing comes up. It was probably too long ago.

She's changed over the years. The saddest part is that she doesn't even know who she is. And if she doesn't even know who Skye Miller is, what can she do? She knows her name, but it doesn't mean anything without a personality to go along with it. She's lost herself. It's far too late to pick up the pieces. Even if she tried, she'd still never be the same again.

Sighing, Skye retrieves her books she needs for the day and closes her locker. She walks through the empty halls, her footsteps echoing around her. She reaches her first period class just as the late bell rings. As she slips into her seat, no one glances her way. They're all preoccupied with other things. Some students are studying for upcoming tests; others are fixing their makeup in compact mirrors.

Skye spends the entire period staring at the clock, watching the hours, minutes, and seconds of her life slowly tick away.

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She hears the name "Hannah Baker" being mentioned again during her lunch period. Perhaps the only good side to sitting by herself at her own lunch table is that she has the chance to eavesdrop on others' conversations. It's not always pleasant—she's heard some rather nasty things being said about herself. (Afterwards, she might've self-harmed, but let's not bring that up.)

Hannah Baker's suicide is something everyone seems to be buzzing about lately. She took her own life. But why? From what Skye's heard, no one knows. Then again, she's always out of the loop. Why would anyone tell her anything?

When you die, people instantly like you better. They take back all the horrible things they said about you. You're remembered when you die.

If Skye Miller is no use to this world alive, then maybe she's better off dead.

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At the end of the school day, she thinks, I'm going to do it. And who's going to stop me? No one's ever bothered to ask her if she was okay or not. They see her crestfallen looks, but do they do anything? Has anyone ever reached out to her?

It becomes final. No one cares.

She opens her locker for the last time. The metal feels cold against her skin. After gathering her things, she shuts it without a second thought. Skye spins on her heel and starts to make her way towards the front doors of the school—the doors to freedom. Once she walks out those doors, she's free. The chains holding her back will be released. She hears someone say "Skye," but assumes it's just someone making fun of her. They've never done anything else.

She runs home. It's a good thing she lives only five minutes away. By the end of the run, she's breathing heavily. That doesn't stop her from running until she reaches her bedroom. Her parents aren't home; they're never home. Skye takes a deep breath and studies everything in her room. It's the last time she's going to see them, after all.

It's a nice little room. In the corner is Skye's bed. On her desk is the crumpled up sheet of paper where she attempted to list reasons to live. If you were wondering, there weren't any. The walls are bare. If a stranger looked at her room, they would leave not knowing anything about who Skye Miller is as a person.

She's no one. No one that matters, anyway. She doesn't even have friends, anymore. Once upon a time, she was happy. Once upon a time, she had friends who were always there for her. Once upon a time, she had friends who weren't backstabbing bitches. Once upon a time, people cared.

Skye looks in the mirror, at the girl who was once a princess, the girl who once had big dreams and high hopes for the future. The girl who, now, is broken beyond repair.

You know what they say. People change.

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In this world, you have to be perfect to succeed. Imperfect people get thrown to the side carelessly. There's really no point in continuing on in life when there's no way Skye can be perfect. She can try, but she'll never measure up, so why even bother trying?

No matter what she does, someone always has something to say about it. There's always a fault to find in everything she says and does. Her so-called friends point out her flaws in a teasing sort of way, but every single word hurts. Every single insult, even if it was meant as a joke, affects her in one way or another. Skye knows that she shouldn't care this much, but she can't help it. All of her "friends" pick on her and criticize her flaws before even bothering to notice that they have flaws too.

If they can be accepted in this world for their flaws, shouldn't she be able to, as well? If only this was a perfect world, where everyone got along.

Perfect worlds only exist in dreams, and, well, heaven.

She can almost see it. That happy ending, that fairytale world, where dreams do come true. It requires her to give her life up, but it wasn't like her existence was even important in the first place. If she died, nothing would change. Everyone would keep on living their lives normally. Her parents wouldn't even care; she was worthless, anyway.

She sees these posts on Tumblr telling people to not commit suicide. Those posts can't even change her mind. She's already made up her mind. Skye's already gone.

No one will care if Skye Miller dies.

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friend.

[noun] a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. / a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter. / a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile. / a person who cares.

skye miller.

[noun] a girl who has no friends.

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Skye Miller has always liked the ocean. Her eyes were the exact same color as it, after all. She was born to be in water, so she's going to die in it. She's staring at the glistening water in her family's pool. Flashbacks of swimming in the pool come to her; there's this memory of a little girl splashing around in the water, giggling happily.

That same little girl now jumps and her life flashes before her eyes. It's fairly short. Her first few years were full of happiness. She sees a little girl making flower crowns with her parents. After that, it mainly consists of tears and screaming and wanting to just disappear.

The water's cool and refreshing.

Her body struggles for a few seconds, her swimmer instincts trying to kick in. But all attempts are useless, because Skye's heart and soul both know that she is going to die and no one's going to stop her.

So she does.

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dead.

[adjective] no longer living; deprived of life.

skye miller.

[noun] dead.

clay jenson.

[noun] a boy who actually cared.

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He stands at her grave, his whole body trembling. She didn't have to die. She didn't deserve to die. He could've saved her, but she was already gone at the time. She's slipped too far down the hole, unable to be saved.

It begins to rain. It's a really heavy rain that penetrates through Clay's leather jacket, making it soaking wet.

The sky is no longer beautiful to him. It's cloudy, gray, and brings only sadness. The sky will forever appear broken to him. And no good comes from broken skies.


a/n: okay, so i would've liked to write a story where clay actually saves her, but pleasepleaseplease forgive me, because i needed her to die in this story. tbh i actually wanted to see what happens after clay says her name but oh, well. i've noticed that this fandom's sort of dead, from the stalking i've done. is anyone still here?

edit: changed the part about the drowning in the bathtub to drowning in the pool.