I was once on the brink of suicide.

Beck saved me. When I thought I had nothing to live for, he proved me wrong. He showed me love. He gave himself to me, and I don't think I appreciated him enough for that. I know I didn't appreciate him enough.

If Beck is the one who saved me from drowning, then Cat is the one who taught me how to swim. She's always happy and energetic, just bursting with life. She's the best example of how to enjoy the time you're given, and I think I was starting to learn.

Cat probably knew about me. I think she was trying to help me with her energy. Cat always wanted to help everyone. Or maybe she just wanted to be my friend… It's another trait of her that I loved. Cat always wanted to be friends with everyone.

That trait is also the reason I am now dying.

She met her new "friends" on Wednesday. We had our doubts, and we warned her, but she wouldn't listen. She said that they were just victims of a bad reputation, but they were good people inside. I believed her. If anyone could redeem them, it was Cat.

On Thursday, they gave her a ride after school. I called to her house later, but nobody answered. I ignored my worries – there were many reasons for her not to answer. Maybe she'd gone shopping. Maybe she couldn't reach the phone in time. Maybe she hadn't heard it ring. As it turned out, my worries were founded.

Nobody saw her on Friday. Nobody even heard anything from her, including her parents. The police were informed, and they searched for her. I searched with them. I think Beck was with me, but I don't remember for sure. All I could think about was Cat, and whether she was safe.

I found her on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Or rather, I found her shell. She was alive and relatively unharmed, but broken nonetheless. The spark that was always in her eyes… it was gone. I tried to bring it back – bring her back – but nothing I did could repair her. I must've tried for hours before remembering to call her parents and let them know their daughter was safe.

Even though I didn't know what had happened (nobody could get her to talk about it), I knew exactly who was responsible. In hindsight, trying to take revenge all by myself was a terrible idea. I wasn't thinking. I should've brought someone, or report it to the police. But instead, I went to find them. Alone.

I did manage to get two of them. They'll walk with a limp forever, if they can ever walk again. When I turned around to face the other two, a sharp pain shot through my chest. I looked down to see a knife between my breasts. It was pulled out, then plunged back into my body. Stomach this time. I could taste blood in my mouth.

Once they made sure I was no longer a threat, the two guys grabbed their fallen companions and ran off. They left me on the floor, bloodstains quickly spreading through my clothes.

I can hear sirens in the distance. I wonder if they're coming for me. Probably not. Nobody knows I'm here, and nobody knows what they did to me. It doesn't matter: they wouldn't make it in time anyway.

I wonder when they'll find me.

I wonder what they'll say about me at the funeral.

I wonder what death is like.

…I guess I'll find that last one out soon enough. I shouldn't think about death. I only have moments left, and damnit, I'm going to make the most of them. Just like Cat taught me.

I don't even make it to the chorus. But at least I died trying.

A/N: I wanted to do something a little less lighthearted. Let me know what you think?