Locking the door behind me, I dropped my bag on the floor and studied my reflection in the mirror. I was panting and crying ebony tears again. I grabbed the Steven King novel out of my book bag.
Most hard cover Steven King books are like bricks so I used it to smash the mirror in front of me. I stood back against a stall and threw the book at the mirror as hard as I could, covering my face with my arm.
Bending down in the broken pieces, picked up a sharp fragment of glass which I held between my teeth as I tore off my jacket and pulled up my sleeves.
“No. No, too much is wrong. This has gone on for LONG ENOUGH! I’M DONE!” I shouted through tears as I gripped the glass dagger tightly in my left hand as I plunged it into my right wrist.
I dragged it across the width of both my wrists a few times to ensure the vein was open.
The first sink on the right in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor of South Buffalo High School was to be the scene of a violent, depression-fueled suicide.
I sat in the sink, my head against the broken mirror, left wrist hanging beside me, right one atop the drain, tears falling like a river. Blood was pouring down the drain like a flood.
I thought that was going to be the end of me. I could practically see the gates of Hell opening- until an angel interrupted my attempt at ending it all, my angel in Hell.
He nearly broke the door off the hinges as he stormed into the bathroom. As this point I was as pale as a spirit and my eyes were almost permanently closed.
He violently shook me by my shoulders shouting
“MARISSA! MARISSA CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
I just muttered,
“This is what they want. They wanted me dead, so be it. Now I want me dead, too.”
“Who?” He asked.
“Everybody wants me dead. I heard them say so. So be it. Tell them they got their wish.” I whispered as I think I must’ve passed out.
I felt cold. The kind of cold you only feel at funerals. Everything was black. No light, no sound; just peaceful serenity.
“Where am I?” I whispered, rubbing my head. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I shouted as I stood up and looked around.
Suddenly a figure appeared out of the torrent of darkness. It was a little girl. She had long brown hair; well at least I think it was brown. There were drops of blood falling from it.
I couldn’t see her face because she had her back to me in the distance. She was wearing a long white dress down to her feet.
She was standing in a pool of blood; her own blood. I knew this because she stood perfectly straight and still until she put her arms straight out on either side of her. Blood fell from her wrists.
Her angelic voice sang
“Marissa, They want us dead. They want us dead.” over and over again. Her voice echoed through the darkness.
“Us? What do you mean us?” I shouted, confused and afraid.
I ran to her to try and help her. I grabbed her by her shoulders and spun her around so that she was face to face with me.
She was... me! Only she had no eyes, just reflecting mirror-like circles. Blood dripped slowly from the edges of the jagged circles.
I could see myself in her eyes. “Give them what they want. They won’t stop ‘til we’re dead and gone. Just give up.” She repeated.
Suddenly, she faded to black mist and disappeared. I was alone again. I sat down on what I think was the ground and hugged my knees close to my head.
My head rested in my folded arms as I cried. But then, I wasn’t alone anymore. There was a crowd of people pointing and laughing at me.
I knew these people! They were all the people on the list in my closet! They were chanting insults and wishes of death. So I did, I just laid there motionless; awaiting my demise.
YOU ARE READING
Bloody Mary
RomanceMarissa has been through enough. She's done. Her pent up anger and pain has grown too strong. Everyone has a breaking point, and she's definitely met hers.
