Things Get Worse (if possible)

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Alright, so I majorly stuffed up with my apology to Laura. Now she was madder at me than ever. When we had a class together later, she completely ignored me even though we sat right next to each other, and when I tried to talk to her she tensed up and started violently stabbing her pencil case with her pen. I gave up after that.

I remembered, vaguely, a talk the school counsellor had once given on depression, that if you didn't do anything about it, it would just get worse and so to get help as soon as possible.

Well, that day my mood was at its breaking point, and I knew that if I didn't do something soon I was going to start bawling and never stop. By then there was no denying that I had depression. It had been obvious all my life that there was something wrong with me, and a mental misbalance like that was just a small part of my long list of problems in my life.

I walked sullenly home from school that day; well, not exactly home, but to the park. I threw my bag across the play area and it slammed into a pole before sliding to the ground. I left it there, not even bothering to empty my pockets like I normally did, and ventured over to the tunnel where I slept.

Falling to the floor, I huddled into a ball and tried to get to sleep, despite the fact that the sun was still up and brightly shining. I wasn't sleepy, just tired of life and as I lay there, trying to will my mind into the world of dreams, a thought crossed my mind that I usually tried to suppress but today couldn't be bothered to. Could I kill myself? Obviously I could but, would I be able to make myself do it? There was nothing to live for anymore; even the best things in my miserable existence had been demolished by my own incompetence.

I wondered if I could muster up the courage to actually commit suicide, and how I would do it. I could climb up to a tall building and jump, but I didn't want to be noticed and I was too much of a coward anyway. I could steal a knife from somewhere and impale myself but I'd probably just end up only injuring myself if I tried and I wouldn't even try because I was scared of death. So many possibilities but what was the use? Even in death everything would suck, but at least I'd have some peace. I convinced myself to wait a few more days before doing anything drastic, because something good could happen. It wasn't likely, but I would at least humor the chance.

Eventually my mind shorted out due to all these unhappy thoughts and I slept. Horrifying dreams graced me with their presence but the next morning I pushed them out of my mind.

Days passed, and things between Laura and I were tense and horrid. I could tell that we both missed each other, but there was no way she could forgive me and so we avoided each other as much as possible.

Then, one day, while just sitting in class, the door to my classroom opened and a student came in with a message for my teacher.

After reading it over, she handed the note back to the messenger and turned her stern gaze on me.

"Miss Rowland, the principal would like to see you, now!" she barked at me.

I stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment before scraping my seat backwards and getting up. I lumbered to the front of the class, leaving my backpack beside my desk and looked to my teacher curiously.

"Why?" I asked bluntly but the teacher just rolled her eyes, being used to my rudeness.

"Just go." she told me, and so I did.

Ten minutes later I was sitting on a stool beside the door to the principals office, wondering what I'd been called there for.

It's not a nice feeling, when a teacher asks you to come see them because, no matter what, you always expect the worst to happen. Even if you're sure you haven't done anything, you have a nagging feeling that you have unintentionally done something completely illegal and that you were going to get in deep trouble.

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