A/N: this story contains adult themes which may be offensive to some readers. It includes subjects such as including suicide, sexual content, abusive behaviour and such, and also uses language that may not be tolerated by some readers. If that isn't for you, I wouldn't read on :)

All twilight characters, universe, themes and everything related to the twilight saga is thanks and owned by Stephenie Meyer.

Hey if anyone is actually reading this lol.. im so new to this and would really appriciate it, if someone just steered me in the right direction :) like i have no idea about all this betaing thang :

28 chairs: Suicide

Suicide, from the Latin suicidium, from sui caedere, "to kill oneself".. is the term used for the deliberate self-destruction of a human being, by causing their body to cease life function.

I lay there.

Waiting to die.

Waiting to feel my pulse start to stumble and slow, and waiting to fall dreamlessly into the perfect slumber. I could feel it coming, and I welcomed it with open arms. I was ready.

I lay there still, flat on my back, staring soullessly up at the ceiling.

The off white paint began to swirl in and out of grey and white and sometimes black, consuming the colour before each time.

I sighed heavily.

Soon the paracetamol would kick in. Or the ibuprofen. And the salt water would began to absorb all the liquid left inside me and I would slowly dehydrate myself into nothing.

Fuck was I depressing.

My heavy pulse matched that of the outside music and I quickly reminded myself I was not alone.

A party. The perfect setting. I had planned everything out so this was exactly how I wanted it. It was my party. I couldn't carry the burden of ruining someone else's, even if it was shit. That's if you could carry burdens when you were dead. I wouldn't want to make it even more of a scene than it already would. The thought of all the attention stirred a sickening ache n the back of my throat.

I hung around at the beginning, welcoming people and hurrying myself around, keeping my mind off the coming events. I stayed calm because i needed to, i couldn't let anyone on. After a while people started inviting themselves in and i was no longer needed to pair up couples or wipe fucking sick from the fucking walls. Everyone seemed to help themselves. Perfect.

I waited for a dance track that I knew everyone would go crazy for. No one would leave the 'scene' for me, I knew that without even asking.

I'd also chosen a room in advance, but it wasn't my own.

I lay on Renee's bed, using her paracetamol, her ibuprofen and her £70 jug that was bought instead of a weekly grocery shop, to put the water in. I poured in a quarter of salt. I didn't quite know how much you needed for it to work, but I was sure, with the mixture of everything else, I wouldn't need to be that much.

28+28=56

56 tablets and a litre and half of saltwater would drown this sorry seed. I started to think of all the things I would miss and the obligations I couldn't keep. It made me think of saying goodbye.

I didn't know how to sum up all of what she had put me through. The years of pain and anxiety and fear. Although all I wanted to tell her how much I wished it hadn't come to this, and that she was in my position. I couldn't.

This stupid piece of my heart was telling me that she was still my mum. My absolute shit alcoholic of a mum. That however many times she had almost killed me, or let other people try, I loved her. A tiny bit. The most miniscule amount that I could. I did.

So I decided to leave her out of it.

Tell Charlie I love him

There was nothing else. That was my life. I was my life.

No one else would care if I lived or died, as long as it didn't interlink with anything they were doing, I could happily drop down in front of them now and no one would bat an eyelid.

I didn't blame them.

I was a nobody. And I liked it that way.

I wasn't doing this for spite, or revenge or attention. I was doing this, because I knew that this was the best thing for me. That this way, I could... everyone else could live happily without the burden of me on their backs. I did it for Charlie really. I knew that he worried and felt fucking awful for not being able to help me, especially when I was young, but it wasn't his fault. The stupid bitch took away every right to me he had the day she left and he couldn't blame himself for her downfall. He reminded me of myself, although I didn't know him all too well, I just felt this present that seemed to mimic my own, whilst hiding in a shadow in the corner of a room.

I squinted my eyes together, feeling a migraine coming on.

Patience is a virtue they say. I don't fucking think so. How long was I going to be here for? Days?

Suppose there wasn't much else I could do.

I rubbed my head in order to make it seem as if, the touch of my smooth cool skin would soothe the crumpled pain behind my eyes. My forehead began to burn.

Sweating? Temperature, maybe? Fever?

I could feel my lungs tighten and my muscles ache and fall limp on the duvet around me. My eyes began to droop and my thoughts began to spin in and out of each other, making nonsense pictures within my mind. I began to slowly slip through hallucinations and began to struggle to figure out was real. Everything seemed to be peaceful and the blare of the music downstairs faded to a dull murmur, gently shaking the ground. This was it.

Was this how you felt you were born?

Because at this moment, I felt numb. Nothing could hurt me and nothing could stir me. For a moment I felt invisible, like I could float above my body and weave meander my way around the people below.

Not that there is anyone interesting around here.

Fucking ghost town.

Maybe that's because everyone who lives here, feels as if the soil needs them more others do.

I needed to stop allowing my depression infested thoughts fill my mind. This was just life, it needed to be done. This was my time, and in doing this everyone's life would be altered. For the better.

I closed my eyes, for the final time, in took a short breath, exhaled for as long as I could, and forced myself to think of the happiest picture I could paint. The one thing, that if I had to, I could stare at forever.

This beautifully carved face that sparkled in the sun and had the most flawless skin I had ever seen. This stunning man built from marble that stood in front of me, in his solid unchanging form.

I didn't know him. He wasn't real. Just someone I had conjured up a few years back in times of absolute desperation. He made me feel slightly warmer inside as if in the tips of my toes something was glowing. I used to think of him for hours, because he had this way of blocking everything I didn't want to think of.

And right now I didn't want to think of anyone or anything. This was for the best. It would hurt peop... Charlie for a while, but eventually the sting would fade and the graze would heal and he could carry on his life, with a permanent smile. A smile I only saw when he was not thinking of his daughter.

I shivered in the cold and wondered if that was the last movement I would make.

'Goodbye' I whispered, and fell sweetly into death. The possibility of ever waking up again was nonexistent.

I was free.