The long road home.

The Bridge.

 The message is set.

It's time.

Hands shaking, earphones blazing.

To sound of the black parade.

I'm up high and the ground tilts below me, I am scared, I am terrified, I think about...

Home.

My natural instincts put up a last front, causing me to almost shut down, to freeze in terror. It's only the sheer multitude of my suffering that forces them into the quiet. Instinct is strong but my resolve is stronger.

I look down at my phone, at the small Tumblr square. An electronic messenger prepared to deliver the message just a measly three hours and fifty-six minutes from now. Leaving a suicide note in the most technically advanced way possible, the perfect way to sum up my geekiness, and the perfect way to bring the others down with me.

For a moment I imagine the chaos, the way Anastasia will be disowned by her adorables, Dad will be blamed and ashamed; forced to abandon Clara, forced to imagine that he was the one who should have noticed.

Of how the news reporters would carry my story across the world like angels, writing my name in bold ink, and allowing history to judge everyone

I would be forever immortalised as a girl who was never given a fair shot, who was mistreated and...

The sheer adrenaline is even taking over my thoughts.

I let the mini-rant in my head continue, despite it sounding low-key psycho the words give me strength and stop me being scared of my surroundings.

I stand up, bracing myself against the rail.

My breath comes fast.

Faster and faster.

My heart pumps.

Faster and faster.

And I steady myself against the railing, headphones loud, music screaming and I know that I can do it.

I can jump.