Prologue:
Sitting in the car I "borrowed" from Helen, I lick the seal on the last envelope, and smooth it shut, feeling the rough, cheap paper under my thumb. I quickly scribble "the last letter" on the front, the final puzzle piece is set to go. I'm sure Percy would figure it out.
I drop it into the postbox after quickly checking to make sure nobody was watching, and quickly drive away. I don't want anybody from school to see what I was doing and figure it out, or, in fact, anybody at all. After all, I was acting pretty suspiciously the past few days.
If all goes according to plan, the last letter will be delivered two weeks from now. I already mailed the other six, one each day, starting from last week, so that the one would arrive the day after the last, starting next Sunday, exactly one week after the event. I figure it would be easier this way, rather then a note.
Now all I need to do is go to the supermarket, bottle shop and the chemist to get the final ingredients for my master plan. At the supermarket I grab some new razors and sleeping pills. I take them up to the checkout, and the blood drains from my face.
A familiar and (surprisingly) friendly face greets me at the cashier. It's Hazel Levesque, a girl from my school. We never hang out or anything, so we can't technically call each other friends, but she is always nice to me, (unlike some other people,) even though she is almost four years younger than me. We were partners in a group project for English once. I can't let her see me with these items, otherwise she'll suspect that something is up. She was always a smart girl. But, it seems I have no other option.
It's the only checkout open, as its a small local shop, and late on a Friday night. Thinking fast, I quickly grab some other random junk food from a display next to me, along with some fizzy drinks. Hopefully these will disguise the other essential items and she won't be too skeptical.
"Hey Hazel! I didn't know you worked here!" I say, "enthusiastically," quickly dumping all of my purchases on the checkout. Thank goodness I've had tons of practice of hiding my feelings. Even so, I just can't hold eye contact with her luminous gold, sparkling orbs for more than a couple seconds. When she finds out what I did, a couple days from now, she'll blame herself, saying that she should've figured it out and stopped me.
"Hey Annabeth! Yeah, I only just started last Wednesday. It's nice to see you too! What are you doing here?" She replies, while scanning everything in front of her, occasionally punching some buttons or typing.
"Oh, I'm, uh, having a movie night with my twin brothers! We ran out of popcorn so they sent me on a rescue mission," I'm sweating, hoping that Hazel doesn't see through all the lies I have fabricated. That my brothers are at a friend's house, I'm not planning on eating any of this stuff, and what I'm doing is the furthest thing possible from a movie night. I wipe my damp hands on my soft, worn out jeans nervously.
"Oh, that's nice. Hope you have a fun time with your brothers!" She finishes scanning and bags everything up. "That will be $12.95." I hand over a twenty and tell her to keep the change. I won't be needing any money anymore. Then I wave goodbye and I smile.
"I'll see you later, Annabeth!" Hazel calls out from behind me. I smile a sad smile. She has no idea.
She never suspected anything.
I go to the chemist and buy some more sleeping pills. Common sense told me that I can't buy enough at the supermarket without raising wariness. But this time I'm careful, and I pack my basket with some less suspicious items.
The person working at the checkout happens to be Jason Grace. His father Zeus, owns all of the Olympus Chemistries, so I'm not surprised to see him working here. He's one of the "popular" kids at school, friends with Percy. Unlike most of the populars, he was always nice to me. Guilt yet again overwhelms me, as Jason smiles, and wishes me a good night. He'll blame himself along with Hazel, for not stopping me.
He never thought anything like that would happen.
Then I go to the drive-through bottle shop. Thank god nobody I know works here. Luckily, my fake ID holds, and I'm able to purchase a bottle of plain, bitter vodka. Flavour doesn't matter, anything will do the job just fine. The cashier doesn't spare me a second glance, even though I'm certain that he can tell that I'm not yet legal drinking age. Finally, all of the ingredients in my plan are ready, and so am I.
I drive up to the house. Yes, I said house, not home. This place never was my home, isn't my home, and never will be my home. Ever. Frederick and Helen (notice, I call them by their first names, not "dad" and "mom") had made it quite clear that I wasn't welcome in their household. The only reason that they don't abandon me and dump me out on the streets is because they had an "reputation to uphold". They couldn't be seen as a cold, heartless couple. It would be bad for the Chase's family business. It didn't take a genius to figure that out.
They won't be home till at least midnight, what, with trying to spend as little time with me as possible, and Bobby and Matthew (aka the "Golden Children") are sleeping over at their friends house. They'll be back by noon tomorrow, eight at the earliest. I doubt they'd even realise 'till morning, even if they were here. It's not like they actually care or anything.
To them, I'm just the outcast in the family, the unwanted, the unimportant. It's not like I'm the one who babysits them, tutors them, and cooks for them or anything. It's not like I'm their step-sister.. Oh, wait. It is. But I'm surprised that they even know my name. If you asked them how old I am, on the other hand, they'd probably be at least five years off, and I know their birthdate down to the hour that they were born.
Dumping all of the junk food and all the other non-essentials on the kitchen bench, I dart up the stairs to the bathroom in the guest room. I run a warm water from the tap into the bath, filling it up almost to the brim. I change into a white nightgown, brush my hair and don't bother to put it into a ponytail like I usually do. I want it to float around in the water when they find me.
It's unlike me to be so theatrical, but I want this to haunt their minds forever, their last memory of me, my golden curls floating in a mixture of bath water and my blood. Sinking into their unconscious thoughts, haunting their dreams. Maybe then they will feel some remorse for how they treated me.
I hope they cry over me at my funeral, and ask themselves, "What did we do wrong?" I hope all the bullies at Goode feel guilty for tormenting me all these years. I hope the teachers finally see past the quiet demeanour and perfect grades to notice how screwed up I was inside. I hope everybody hears my silent screams.
How nice, I'm thinking about my "loving family", "caring friends" and "concerned teachers" crying over me, and enjoying the thought. What an empathetic and selfless individual I must be. But, first, I must complete the plan, if I want all of my fantasies to become reality.
Instead of getting into the warmth of the water straight away, I empty all of the pills into my hand, and grab the vodka. I quickly swallow all of them, wincing and gagging as the vodka burned my throat like a watered down and diluted version of acid.
I feel slightly dizzy, and my vision is blurring, but I know I have to finish the job. I didn't come all this way for nothing. This is the last chance that I'll ever get for probably a long, long time. Finishing the last of the vodka, down to the very last drop, I pick up the razor, tracing the sharp, silver metal across my finger. My finger slices open and bleeds, the two sections of skin pulling away from each other...and I smile.
I hold it to my left wrist, and slide down quickly before I have a chance to think about it. It stings, and blood wells out of the cut. Ignoring the pain, I do it to my other wrist, and multiple other places until I have a total of about twenty nicks and scrapes all covering my body, more or less. Some are much deeper than others, like the ones on my wrists, and on my neck. These are the ones that will kill me, the others were just for show.
I trace over a scar that I had gotten three years ago, when Helen got drunk and threw her glass bottle at me. It happened to be vodka, which is why I used it to swallow the pills tonight. I get the now-empty bottle, and smash it on the tiles. Then, using the most jagged piece of glass I could find, I reopen the wound. Relishing in the pain, and irony, I keep the glass shard in, before I lower myself into the water. I make sure I'm completely submerged so that the deep wounds will bleed out.
As I am lying there, I feel no regret for what I have done. My only worry is how it will affect Percy, especially with all of the letters that I've left him. I hope he doesn't hate me for breaking our promise.
Otherwise, I'm thrilled. Thrilled that I am free of this world, thrilled that Helen and Fredrick no longer have control over me, thrilled that I won't be bullied and made fun of anymore, thrilled that the world won't have to deal with me, but most of all, thrilled that I won't have to deal with myself.
The world turns black, colours swirling together until it fades into the shade of night, and that is the end.
My suicide was successful.
AN: New story, so please review! CanWeJustTalkAboutBooks Beta'd this chapter, so please check out her profile! This will now be from Percy's P.O.V with seven chapters, plus an epilogue. Not exactly sure where I'm going with this, so suggestions are welcome.
Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, nor do I own 13 Reasons Why (which is where I got this idea).