6.

The rest of my day was spent worrying, like a victim on deathrow. You knew the pain would come and it was only a matter of counting down the minutes.

The bell did that for me.

The yelling sound of kids only added to the immence pain that a sane doctor would classify as a headache. But there was an angry couple arguing inside my head. I swear, my thoughts should get divorced!

It's your story.

How could a story kill someone?

Maybe she isn't dead...

"Honey, I'm so sorry."

Sobs.

More sobs. Sobs. Sobs. Sobs.

Now it may seem like I am a bitch to my friends, and that I don't really like them, but the truth is I really do. They are the only ones that truely get me, and the only ones that are always there. Well, that's what I thought.