Why You Shouldn't Die

{1}

A/N: So, this girl, Jessica, didn’t feel like writing her already present stories, so she decided she was going to write a one-shot and seperate it int two parts.

Why You Shouldn’t Die

I think about it again and again and I always come to the same conclusion. I always think about the questions they’ll ask everyone at school. Some will lie and it’s such a shame that I was dead. But others will most likely celebrate.

I think about what I’ll gain. What will I gain from this? Nothing. Nothing is exactly what I want right now. I want blank nothingness. I am finally part way there. I am numb. No one loves the broken girl. No one loves the one who cuts, binges, and purges. No. No one loves me.

I wobble, but catch my balance. I have time. I could live a life, but it would be a life alone. Who wants that? Who wants me?

I need to jump.

I look over the one-hundred foot waterfall in front of me. To the average eye, I was simply sitting on the ledge. A lot of teenagers do it. So why would I be any different?

I watch the steady, but strong flow of the water, soon to be engulfing me in their silent tide. As I decide that this is all too much, I realize I must jump soon. I know no one will come for me, but it’s not worth the risk.

Giving one last glance at the water below, I inch forward and stand. With half of both of my feet off of the ledge, I start to fall forward. Right as my feet leave the ledge, I prepare myself for euphoria. My euphoria doesn’t come. I do not feel the wind in my hair. Or my body falling to its imminent end.

Instead, I feel strong arms wrapped around my waist. I open my forest green eyes and stare up at the boy who is holding me.

“Screw you,” I breathe.

His eyes widen, and his breath begins to steady.

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me? I just saved your life. Why would you ever want to kill yourself?”

“You have to be freaking kidding me, right? You’re a stranger who just stole my nirvana from my grasp. I was almost there. It almost ended. You stole my happiness. I am not happy here,” I deadpan.

The boy has no facial expression- like he doesn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t either, if I had almost watched someone kill themselves.

“Oh, and that is where you are wrong, Naomi.”

I study his face. He does look semi-familiar. His hazel eyes and black hair stand out to me. I have seen him before. This is when it starts to click. Two summers ago, when I was fourteen, my family when to a beach house. I was ignored, as always, because my parents already have their perfect daughter, and I was a mistake. I was walking alone on the beach when a boy came up to me. He told me his name was-

“Aaron.”

He smiles, but it falters as he is reminded by our current situation.

“Naomi, you never called. I could have helped-“

“You’ve done enough,” I mumble.

With that, I get up and start to walk away, climbing over the protective reeling.

“Wait! Is your number still the same?”

I glance back at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”