What if you have no one, but have everything?
Suicide. A hard thing to deal with. To cope with. Ever since Nicolette's dad died, she's been nothing but emotionless. She was empty. But, once she finds Tony at a youth group, her whole world starts a...
DISCLAIMER: This story discusses suicide, depression, anxiety and death. So if you are triggered by any of this, please do not read. Also, if anyone is worried about me, I'm fine. This is dedicated to my friend. Please enjoy! :)))).
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My mother pulled into the school's parking lot, clutching onto her chest. Her eyes were filled with tears, about to fall. Her mascara was on the verge of been destroyed. I pulled onto my hoodie strings and let the hood cover my face, only revealing my tiny blue eyes. My mom pulled up behind a white, rusty minivan and turned to me sighing.
"If you feel like you want to come back home, call me," she said.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the door handle.
"I'll be just fine," I whispered, barely speaking. Before I opened the door, I peered out the window. Many students were piling into the entrance one by one. Some were laughing and some were walking alone and texting. I sighed and quietly opened the door. I didn't dare look back at my mom. I could already picture tears strolling down her soft, pale cheeks. Her tears were a reminder of how much I had screwed up. How much I didn't belong here.
I brushed off my jeans and held my backpack straps while I walked up the long pathway to the door entrance. I started imagining what it would be like if this part in my life was a scene in a movie. I wonder what music would play in the background. The funny thing is about movies, is that they never truly capture a characters feelings. Maybe they want to die but they're in a moment where they're just harshly making out with Zac Efron. I would like that. Sealing my feelings up in a small camera box while smashing my lips with Zac Efron. Perfect.
Suddenly I reached the door and opened it, grabbing the handle and swinging it open. I took a deep breath and breathed in the old, filthy school smell. It reeked of sweat and the musty cafeteria food being left out to rot until noon. I stood there loathing the day already.
Once I walked to the sophomore hallway, I took a deep breath and skidded past all my fellow schoolmates. A few paused their conversations to look at me in awe. A few more exchanged looks and tried to stop me. But most ignored me. The ones who ignored me were the ones who probably started the rumors about me being pregnant or being buried deep in the ground. My cause of death? Homicide. But I had done something far worse than these concepts that may be the worst for some. I had attempted to kill myself. Woah, shocker. Not that anyone would care that I felt so bad about myself I wanted to erase myself off this planet.
I kept walking with my eyes glued to the floor. All of a sudden, a small body stopped in front of me, keeping me from walking forward. I looked up and met the eyes of Whitney Sockwell, my old best friend before my life almost flashed in front of my eyes.
Her hair hung low in front of her dark green eyes. Her lips were covered in sores, and they grew pale and white as she smiled ever so lightly.
I grabbed her hand and moved her out of the way.
"Nicolette?" She asked, as I continued moving forward. I froze. It had been so long since I had heard my own name come out of someone's mouth younger than forty-five. I rolled my eyes and kept there with my back to Whitney.
She grabbed my shoulder and turned me around and frowned. Her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows knitted.
"Where have you been?" She asked in a raspy, low voice.
I glued my eyes back on the floor and traced the lines of each tile. If the lines went on forever, I wonder where they would lead to. Hopefully so far away that I would never have to see anyone ever again.
Whitney snapped her fingers and I slowly shifted my icy eyes to meet hers.
I just stared at her, admiring her freckles dotting every part of her face. She pulled a piece of her hair back and sighed.
"Just forget it," She said under her breath. She then continued to walk away and I silently cheered in my mind. Maybe if I just stared at everyone's eyes and didn't say a word, it would scare them away and I wouldn't have to socialize. What a perfect plan.
I continued my way to my locker, itching my head at some points and resisting conversations with my locker neighbor. I just played with my lock, unlocking and locking it again until the bell rang and the school day started.
After five long periods of "Nicolette where have you been?" or "Nicolette, how'd the abortion go?", lunch came. Usually I'd sit with Whitney and a few weird ass gothic boys that shared headphones and ate matching lunches. But today I would sit by myself. With my thoughts.
I slammed myself down on a wooden lunch bleacher in the back of the cafeteria. It smelled like spoiled milk and bleach. I wonder if digesting that mixture was better than hanging yourself from the ceiling fan. I set my hoodie strings on the table and played with them. I tied them to make a bow tie then untied it, sighing. I wasn't hungry, but the smell of old meat loaf and artificial orange Kool-Aid made me sick to my stomach. Maybe I could die by eating the school food. It wouldn't hurt to try.
I listened to all of the multiple conversations around me. All of the conversations that were held by people. All of the conversations that were happy and had a purpose. Some girls started laughing on the side of me and I slowly glanced at them. They were telling jokes and sharing lunches. They were so happy. I didn't trust people that were happy. They seemed too good and pure for this world. I turned back around and groaned, rubbing my eyes. Why was I even here? I should just be at that stupid youth group my mom wanted me to go to.
Slam!
I stopped rubbing my eyes and looked up. A taller boy with deep platinum and brown eyes and frosty white hair stood there, with crossed arms. I had noticed he threw a lunch tray down in front of me. The orange was half eaten, but the pizza slice wasn't.
"Aren't you hungry?" He asked.
I shook my head. I hadn't said one word today. My anxiety reached the roofs so hard that I didn't even want to make a sound. He wasn't going to be the one to break my record of not speaking.
He looked back and I peeked over his head. A group of boys, assumingly his friends were staring at me laughing.
I glared back at the boy who was standing near me and crossed my arms.
"Why are you over here?" I asked. Shit, I broke it. All because of this dumbass giant.
He turned to look at me and quickly sat down.
"D-Don't listen to them," he told me, shutting his eyes.
I frowned. I had heard that from my one too many counselors.
He opened his eyes again and grinned.
"I'm Tony. Are you N-Nicolette?," he asked pushing his hair back.
I smirked, taken aback. What a firm, impressive introduction. What did his friends want me to do now? Rip my clothes off and throw myself on the ground? Funny.
I felt my body freeze up and I groaned. My anxiety was level was getting higher and higher. I felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack. The boy must have noticed something was wrong because he grabbed my elbow and his eyes had turned to stone.
"I...I have to go," I murmured.
I stood up from the table and dashed out of the lunchroom, placing my hood on top of my head and letting tears fall down my cheeks.
