The Lovely Suicide Children

Chapter 23: The Angelic Melody

After the teachers had been able to calm me down, I was sent to the principal Miller's office. There I was asked about the man who had played the messages over the speakers. Nerves tickled throughout my body, making it impossible to stay still in any manner. I kept playing with my fingers, running my hands through my hair, looking around, swinging my feet, and not keeping eye contact with Principal Miller.

"Olivia," the principal let out a sigh. "We just want to know if everything is okay. Is there anything that we should be concerned about concerning this man?"

Looking at the desk, I shook my head. There was nothing that he could do to fix what had happened. I was more concerned about Megan than anyone else, for she was going to make my school year a living hell. Not to mention the teenagers that now assumed that I was insane. Every time I thought about the recording, I placed my hand over my face, embarrassed. This was a whole new level of embarrassment. In the eyes of the students,  I was crazy.

"Olivia it's going to be okay," Principal Miller stated. "We will ensure you nothing like that ever happens again. As for now, I suggest you go back to your classroom."

My head shot up at him as if he had sentenced me to prison for four years. "I can't go back to class. They'll make fun of me."

Principal Miller stood up and tugged at his tie. "Olivia, the best advice I could give you is to ignore them. You know you're not crazy, and I know you're not crazy. It was just a misunderstanding I'm sure. You can't let words get to you, okay?"

I got up and headed towards the door, angry and upset that the only advice I was given was to ignore my situation. As if it was the simplest thing to do. Ignore the words and the jokes. Ignore all of the false things that would be said about me. Oh, that was easy. I was about to experience days, weeks, and possibly even months of being called mad. I didn't have the strength to ignore those type of jokes made about me. I wasn't a robot without feelings. I had feelings, and I was very sensitive.

With a sigh, I opened up the door and stepped out of the principal's office. As soon as I had poked my head out the door, people that were lurking the hallways looked at me, smiling and laughing. I turned my head and made my way towards the bathroom, almost in tears. Before I made it to the bathroom, I was stopped by Rose.

"Hey," she waved. "What is going on with you?"

I wiped my tears away and tried to avoid eye contact with her. "I don't know, it was an accident."

 "Accident?" her head lowered as she looked at me. "Olivia, that was your voice. You actually said those things."

I shrugged not knowing what to say back to her.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she shook her head. "Wow. I can't believe it really was you. I was hoping that I was wrong. I don't know what's up with you."

I looked up, making contact with her for the first time since she had stopped me from going inside of the bathroom. "What's up with me?" I asked nervously.

She nodded her head slowly and hid her lips for a second. "Since I've met you, there were times you threw me off a lot. I didn't want to assume you were different right away. But after Robert, the skin on the tree, and hearing this,"  she looked away from me. "You really are different. And it's been freaking me out."

Tears were building up inside in my eyes, uncontrollably falling down my cheeks. I walked past her and ran to the bathroom, closing the stall door. I cried while standing up. I didn't even know how I would walk into class again. I didn't want to go back, class. I didn't want to come back to this school ever again. However, I couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. The bell had rang, sending people inside of the bathroom. I wiped my eyes to the best of my ability and walked out of the bathroom.

People recognized me which I found unbelievable. " Hey, I'll save you some bones after lunch. You can use them to keep out The Lovely Suicide Children. Is that what they are called?" a girl shouted out. The sad thing was that I had never seen this girl before, but all of a sudden she knew me.

People began to laugh. I felt like throwing up or a collapsing onto the ground. It was funny how people say words don't hurt. However, this hurt me in ways I couldn't fathom. Words verbally and physically hurt. My body almost gave up on me, and I felt weak.  The laughter and the words weren't easy to ignore at all.

...

On the way back home, Dad couldn't shut up about how embarrassed he was. About how the words that were said over the speakers somehow caught on to his job at work. I couldn't believe it. Someone had played the message to people at his job. Dad was really on me about how immature I was acting while staying with him. About possibly sending me to a mental institution for help. I cried the whole ride until we get home. My music wasn't strong enough to soothe the pain this time.

When I stepped inside of the house, I found Amber sitting on the stairs. She had the jar of what I knew was now bones sprinkled around her. When my father came in, I couldn't help but express my rage. I looked at him with tears in my eyes. "Through all of these years, you managed to take care of Amber, both of you, knowing she was disturbed like Shayla had told me. But when I come, it's me who belongs in the institution. It's me that you want to get rid of."

My father looked at me with no expression whatsoever on his face. I wanted an answer. God knew I wanted an answer. I deserved it. His frown made me regret ever speaking up for myself at that moment. Everything that had happened today didn't amount to what I felt at that moment. My dad didn't want me. He never did. 

I ran upstairs and fell into my bed, clutching my pillow for something to hold. I was about to lose it. If I had gone straight to the razor, it would be sliding against my wrist right now. But I was in bed and, I didn't feel like getting up. Not yet. I cried until my head could no longer take it. My pillow was soaked with tears, and my head throbbed with pain. I had so many questions about why this was happening to me. On why my father treated me this way and what did I do to deserve that kind of treatment. It just didn't make sense to me. The world didn't make sense to me.

With my head on my pillow, I drifted off to sleep. Eventually, I was awakened by a very soft sound coming from outside of my window. When I stood up and looked out the window, I heard singing. Beautiful, blissful singing. I have never heard anything so Angelic in my life. Placing my hands on the window and wiping off the fog, I was welcomed by the view of trees. The soft hums coming from something in the darkness attracted my desire to listen, like a magnet. I tried to hear what was being said but didn't understand. It wasn't English. Perhaps it was, but too far away for me to understand the words being sung. The humming slowed down, and the range of the melody was beginning to grow out of order, and new voices were heard. Dark voices.