©Copyright 2015-Present by A.K. Halterman. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction on whole or in parts in any form. I own this story and all its characters. Any copying/redistributing/writing is prohibited by law and will be punished in a court of law unless you receive consent from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are a product of my imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. I do not personally condemn nor indorse any unlawful behavior expressed in this book.
ATTENTION: Not suitable for anyone under the age of 17.
I sincerely apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, I have tried my best to edit this and at the very least keep everything spelled right with spell check but I still find certain things that the spell check did not catch and I'm extremely sorry about this. One of these days I'll edit it again, maybe tomorrow, next week or three years from now. And please if you want to correct my grammar or an inconsistency be polite, please. Thank you all for sticking with this nonetheless, you are amazing people.~~
Revised Dec 2015
Tears refuse to leak from my eyes, but I know something that will leak, will drip, will release these boiling emotions trying to pass the barriers that took years to build.
I go to my drawer and grab the needle, although I know this is why Isaiah left it helps too much to want to stop. I take out my razor blade and put it on my wrist, I just keep the razor there, unmoving, until I push on it hard and slide it across my wrist. I see the blood pool on my pale wrist, it drips down my arm and I feel a sick satisfaction as I watch it drip to the hardwood floor, watch it pool on the floor.
I grab the needle and push it in to my skin, pushing the plunger down, the poison pumps through my veins, reaching it's destination in mere seconds and causing my thoughts to blur. My first thought is to call my best friend Jon. For some reason, unknown to me, I press the two on my phone, I put it to my ear and I see the blood dripping from my arm to the hardwood floor. I start laughing and distantly I hear Jon ask whats wrong which makes me laugh even more because something is so funny but I don't even know what's funny anymore, the last thing I remember thinking is 'I wonder if we have any cheese?'. I wake up and see Jon standing over me with a worried expression, I try to move but groan when my head starts spinning from the movement.
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