A/N: So, this is my first fic that isn't about Harry Potter, so I hope you like it.
Also, if anything I wrote is totally inaccurate, please let me know. I've never really been through it, so I don't really know if this is how people feel when they are on the verge of suicide.
P.S-Thank you to my amazing friend, TARDISteen, who helped me with this story. She's awesome, you should check her out.
Blaine was walking out of his school, keeping a safe distance away from everyone else with his head down. He wasn't the most loved person in his school… actually, he was the least loved person in his school. Blaine had yet to go through a day without being pushed into a locker, or thrown into the garbage can, or locked in a janitor's closet, or called 'princess,' 'lady,' and 'fag.' He hated every single day of his high school life, and he still had a year left.
Blaine was starting to think really bad thoughts. He thought about how no one loved him, how he was all alone in the world and how he didn't matter. Blaine didn't remember the last time anyone had talked to him at school and had not called him some name, and he couldn't for the life of him remember the last time his parents had looked at him with any kind of love.
Ever since Blaine came out to his parents in Sophomore year, they had barely looked at him. His parents didn't kick him out or beat him, they just ignored him, and Blaine thought that it would've been better if they did beat him. If they beat him, at least it would mean that they still knew he was alive.
Blaine's parents weren't the only one's who kept their distance from him when he came out. All his friends either decided to ignore him or become one of the bullies who tormented him day after day. He thought that at least one of his friends would stay by his side and support him, but none of them did.
Blaine was starting to think that no one would miss him if he left. His parents acted as if he didn't exist, his friends hated him, and the bullying just got worse everyday. If he was dead, everyone would probably celebrate, because 'that gay guy' was finally out of their faces. No one would care if he was gone, because no one cared about him anyway. Blaine doubted that there would even be a funeral for him, they'd probably just throw his body in a river or something.
Blaine had almost made it to his car without any of his tormentors noticing him when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulder blades, pushing him to the ground. He fell face first, because he was too surprised to catch himself. Blaine could already feel the tiny scrapes and scratches stinging his face from landing on the pavement. His hand were raw and he could already feel a huge cut forming on his knee.
Blaine turned around so he was laying on his back and leaned on his elbow. He looked up at his attacker to see that it was none other than John Phillips sending him a glare. John was one of his friends that turned to the dark side (as Blaine liked to put it) when he came out. He wasn't just Blaine's friend, but his best friend. They had did everything together, and it hurt Blaine the most when John turned his back on him.
"Listen, homo, why don't you just leave already?" John said.
Blaine looked up at him, confused. He couldn't possibly have known what he had been thinking about just seconds before John pushed him.
John saw Blaine's confused look, and sighed. "We. Hate. You. Just kill yourself already before we do it for you."
Before Blaine could say anything back, John tuned on his heels and walked back toward his football-playing-cronies.
Blaine sat there for a few seconds, taking in what John had said. He quickly got up from the pavement and ran to his car before the tears welling up in his eyes fell. He jerked his car door open and jumped into the driver's seat, closing the door after him and resting his head against the steering wheel. Blaine let out a sob, and before he could help himself he was all-out balling. Blaine knew that this was it. It was the last straw. It was one thing thinking that everyone wanted him dead, but hearing it being said out loud was another thing.
He pulled out of his school's parking lot and drove toward the only bridge in his town, knowing that he was ready. On the way there, he thought about the many times when people had beaten and abused him. How his parents ignored the fact that he ever existed, how his best friend was now his bully, how no one would miss him, how he's all alone, how he didn't matter, how no one cared.
He parked his car on the side of the road and walked on the side of the bridge. There were no cars passing, and he hoped that none would pass for a little while longer. Blaine went over to the railing of the bridge and looked down at the flowing river. It had rained that day, so the river was running angrily under the bridge. He looked down and thought about how his pain was going to end, how he would finally be at peace and happy. Blaine was ready to he happy again.
He grabbed onto one of the poles going vertically upwards, toward the top of the bridge, and lifted himself up so both his of his feet were on the railing. Blaine leaned forward a little, looking down at the water. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and watched it fall from his chin and into the angry river. Blaine looked up toward the sky and let out a shaky sigh, ready to take that one step off the railing and into the water.
Blaine let all the air out of his lungs and jumped. He fell toward the water, and landed with a loud crash. He opened his eyes and only saw darkness as his body was pulled down the river. Blaine closed his eyes again and he pictured his parents throwing all of his belongings in a dump, his bullies dancing on his grave, John laughing because Blaine had listened to his advice, and his funeral, which no one attended. These images stayed in his head as he slowly lost consciousness and let the river carry him away.
A/N: Chapter two will be up soon.