2. AN IMMORTAL
Noah despised school. Such institution brought no advantage and only added more misery and trouble to life. God, even life was useless. What's the use? You lived, wasted your parents' money, studied, worked, got married, had children, grew old, died. We're born only to die in the end. Everything we'd worked so hard for held no meaning. Everything would be lost. Some people might be lucky enough to leave their names and be cherished after their death, but then these people were no longer alive. They didn't have a chance to enjoy their fame for they'd left the world for good.
Noah wished she could just die. She didn't need all the sadness waiting ahead. She didn't want to let another second went wasted. She was just crowding the already overcrowded world after all. There's nothing she could contribute for the world or its inhabitancies. Oh, she did make a good punch bag for those nasty jocks and sluttish cheerleaders. Not literally, but it's very obvious that they liked to kill their spare time or try to forget how desperate they were by bullying her. Let it be just painting mocking graffiti on her locker or burning all her books.
Noah was sure no one would miss her either. Her uncle might have raised her, fed her, bought her things she didn't need, but he didn't care a whit about her. He's too full of himself and his money. Noah had no friends. Since she was marked an outcast and other names she'd rather not mention by the popular kids, no one would talk to her in the least friendly manner. Noah also knew, she was just a burden and disgrace to everyone else.
Noah really would rather just vanish into the air. Like it would make any difference to anyone.
Noah reluctantly walked down the school corridor. No matter how much she hated it, she still had to attend. She didn't want anyone at home to know how miserable she was. No one needed to know.
As she was walking, a cup of diet yoghurt landed on her silky black hair.
"Here comes the bloody wrist-scratcher!" a familiar nasty voice addressed Noah. She needed not to look up to know whose voice it was. Why, it's only one of her tormentors, "Are you going to scratch your wrist to death again? You'd better do a better job this time!"
All of the popular kids who had gathered to watch Noah's humiliation laughed real hard. How she hated the very sound of laughter! It's as if everyone could be happy but herself.
Noah glared at them. There reaction was remarking in mockery, "Oh! Stop it! Let's not mess around the scratcher or she'd slash our wrists and kill us!"
"I doubt it's possible! She can't even kill herself properly!"
"Yeah, it's a shame that you survived, you know! We could have done better if you had succeeded. If only you weren't so useless!"
"Hey, wrist-scratcher, you want me to teach you the RIGHT way of slashing your artery?"
Noah had attempted suicide before. It didn't even hurt, only bleed. But then somebody found her and dragged her to the hospital at once. It was entirely that janitor's fault. If he hadn't barged in and interfered, Noah would have been peaceful in her grave right now. No need to go to school, no need to face the humiliation she had been bearing for years, no need to worry about tomorrow…
Noah ran as fast as she could, hoping the laughter that haunted her sickly mind would be lost. She ran to the empty bathroom and cried her heart out.
Her nightmare started when she was a freshman. A handsome senior in the football club asked her out. She was so charmed and flattered. She said yes. That week was like a fairytale to Noah, but all those sweet dreams shattered into million pieces when she found their photo when making out displayed on the board magazine. She felt so ashamed. She went to seek that boy immediately. She found him hanging with other popular kids, all were laughing at her.
Noah could still recall the words he had said back then, "Look, the slut's here. Wanna take turns?"
She bore all humiliations for almost a year. Her friends had left her. They might have felt sympathy, but no one would ever go against the popular kids there. To other students, they were rules and figures to worship. The one they had condemned would be condemned by all. Noah did her best to bear all means done to make her life miserable, but she had reached her limit.
She tried to take her own life, to take her only bliss with her own hand.
She failed.
The day she was let out of the hospital, her nickname had changed into the bloody wrist-scratcher.
This time Noah swore she wouldn't fail. She would not let a thing rob her from the only thing she had ever wished for; the embrace of death.
This time Noah would strike herself at the heart. It would be faster and more effective. There might be more pain, but she had felt nothing when the sharp blade had cut her wrist. Maybe this time she would feel nothing too. Even though there was pain, it wouldn't be for long.
Noah looked at herself in the mirror. It's not like she wasn't pretty. In fact, she might have been the most beautiful girl at school. Her almost paper white skin was too pale, yet exotic in her own way. Her pitch black, perfectly straight hair was the hair every girl would die for. Her figure swelled at all the right places without having to stuck a finger into her throat. Only her eyes were red due to too much crying. Gray shades below her eyes were contrast to her pale skin; must have been lack of comfortable sleep. And her face displayed nothing but sadness.
Sure of her plan, Noah went to homeroom with lighter heart. How nice it felt to know that there wouldn't be another day to face!
During the homeroom, a new student was introduced. He took the class by surprise and impress them all, except Noah, of course. She couldn't care less. With his looks, he would be one of the jocks in no time. Noah thanked God for not having to live another day just to see such beauty wasting his time to make other people's life miserable.
But Edgar Stevenson's appearance really was extraordinary. It's as if he filled and brightened the whole room by just standing still. From his golden brown skin to his golden curls, everything about him was simply perfect. And what a glorious smile! Everyone was dying to get to know him, but they backed off once the popular kids joined, eager to make Stevenson become one of them as soon as possible. He hardly responded to them, though. Edgar Stevenson only smiled and kindly begged them to get lost.
Noah went through the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but she felt unusually uncomfortable. It was as if she was being watched. Once the bell rang, signing the end of the day, Noah went straight home, ready to execute her plan.
Noah ran into her room, locked the door and all windows, drew the curtain, and turned off the light. It wasn't completely dark inside; there were still a ray of light leaking through the drawn curtain. Noah reached for her pocket knife with her right hand while her left hand was crossed over her heart, feeling its last beats. She pulled the knife closer and closer; her senses anticipating pain while her soul anticipating eternal bliss of a wish fulfilled.
Noah could feel the knife slowly penetrating into her skin. Blood started drenching her hand, yet she still felt nothing. No pain, no feeling of her soul living her body, no nothing. Had she died? Had it been THAT easy all along?
Then, Noah heard a voice. It wasn't the nasty voice of mockery. It was far from it. It was a masculine voice, yet gentle and smooth as honey. It was saying, "There's no use trying to kill yourself."
Whose voice was it? Could it be just her pre-death hallucination? Or could it be a small part of her own conscience she had suppressed for so long, crying out only when it was too late?
Noah forced her eyelids to open. She found her room far brighter than it was supposed to be. And right before her was the glowing, magnificent figure of Edgar Stevenson.
"There's no use trying to kill yourself, Noah, for you are an immortal."
