A/N: 200 words on Jordan Cowan, deceased. Quite angsty, with a hint of reflection and some appropriate bad language. Comments are appreciated.
Disclaimer: The following is a piece of fanfiction. No money is made off this. There is no copyright infringement intended. Seriously. I do not own any of the following characters, concepts and backgrounds.
Noose
She's suffocating. Are those tears in her eyes? She's blinded, the shock is crushing, she's marked, and the scar is blistered right on her pretty forehead for all to mock. She hates being laughed at. Slut. Whore. Bitch. She imagines words, nasty and cutting and all-too-loud, behind her back and all around her, getting inside her skin.
There's not enough soap in the dispenser. Won't anyone help her clean up? Parents don't understand. Does anyone? Damn that mirror. Her mascara's running, sooty black lines trailing down her cheeks. She scrabbles for her makeup. The lid's nailed shut. She can't get the case open. Hell, close her ears, stop them tight, open her eyes and open them again, and she'll still be dead.
She hears sirens. What's that? They're cruel voices, singing half-birds that can't fly; petty, despicable, absolute jerks. She hates them, hates them all with a wretched young vehemence. She'll show them she can escape. Would she dare?
High above the sea, her arms flail for one desperate moment. Breathless, she hears their voices. She realizes, then. It's the sound of life.
And it's gone. Fifteen years of seeing, fifteen years of love and laughter, and all for what?