Tenten

The Next Great Adventure

To be honest, I've always thought that one quote, above all others, is quite interesting. I'm nearly sure that almost everyone's heard it.

"To die would be an awfully big adventure."

It's from Peter Pan, and it was interesting because I was depressed, and I read. A lot. I had read so many great stories, many of them were the beautiful pieces of literature known as fanfiction. I always loved reading self insert oc's. They were my way to escape the darkness that I felt. In the end, it was unhealthy. So many of them had died and been reincarnated into these beautiful worlds that I longed for.

One can see how such an occurrence could get warped in the mind of someone going through depression.

My thoughts would drift from killing myself and getting re-born. I never did though. I suppose I believed that if I threw away my first chance to live, I wouldn't exactly be entitled to another. Even beyond that, I didn't want to set an example. Even when I thought about writing those stories, someone kills themselves to escape the world around them and wakes up in a better one, I decided that there was no way to do that.

Despite what I wanted for myself, I wouldn't have wished that course of action on anyone else. I would never write something that might drive someone to suicide.

I still believe that had I killed myself then, I wouldn't have been reborn. Maybe I would have gone to heaven for my christianity. Maybe I would have gone to hell. In fact, my running theory is that only those who die the deaths of young heroes truly move on to another life.

They would have to be young, full of lost potential to make the world a better place. It would have to be a heroes death, where they were saving other people, to prove that they put the needs of others above themselves.

I wasn't really depressed when I died. Sure, there were days where I nearly couldn't get out of bed, but it was rare. I was trying to enjoy life. I had made plenty of friends, and I was dedicated to trying to help them become better people. I was using my experiences with depression to coax others out of theirs. I used how socially awkward I was to reach out to the other social outcasts.

My anxiety still acted up all the time, but it was light. It rarely led to damage to myself or others. There was still a bit of self loathing there, but it was sort of in the background. I was able to push it into my subconscious.

But here, let me get to the point.

My heart pounds in my chest, my skin feeling like a thousand beetles with needles for legs were skittering around over it. My eyes were trained against the door, my hearing sharpened by adrenaline. Margret was breathing heavily behind me, trying her hardest not to sob. Jacob was positioned next to me, though I made sure I was standing slightly in front of him. I was in the front, backpack resting heavily behind me, one of its straps in my hand.

I had widened my stance, counting my breaths, Three in, three out. My arms tensed, as I ran through the action again and again in my head. If someone came through that door, I would fling my thirty pound backpack at them and sprint forward. First priority was to get the gun out of their hands, then try and crush the throat. I knew as soon as I took off, bullets would fire. If I was lucky none of them would hit the people behind me. If I was really lucky, none of them would hit me. I wasn't banking on the later.

Gunshots rang throughout the school hallway.

They were louder than the ones previously.

I shut my eyes momentarily and took another deep breath.

Footsteps grew closer in the hall.

My heart jumped into my throat

The door thudded.

My eyes snapped open.

The door thudded again.

I clenched my jaw, maneuvering in front of Felicity and Alexander.

My friends wouldn't get hurt.

They wouldn't die.

Not today.

A gunshot rang and the door burst open. I was already moving, my backpack flying out of my hands at the attacker as I processed. The weapon was definitely automatic, so I didn't have much time. Luckily, my feet had moved during my processing. I had already flung myself at him. He recovered in time to get a few shots off, but I took up most of his vision at that point. I felt the pressure of them entering my body, but adrenaline numbed me. Someone was screaming behind me. In my motions, I tried to wrench the gun out of his hands, but it didn't work. He was too strong. Without thinking, I latch my mouth onto his hand, biting down hard enough that blood spilled into my mouth.The gun dropped from his hands and I kicked it backwards as my vision dimmed.

I dropped like a rock to the floor, my thoughts growing more and more sluggish. I knew it was due to blood loss. Most of the shots had been to my chest. Unless paramedics got here now, there really was no hope for me.

Gunshots rang out in the room, and a face appeared over mine. I felt hands trying in vain to stop the blood pouring out of my body.

I smiled and patted Alexander on the cheek. I didn't try to move at all, or speak. I didn't want them to panic even more at the sight of my bloody mouth. I hated having things on my teeth, too. Instead I moved my lifted hand and signed a quick L-O-V-E at the group. Margret was clinging onto my arm, her sobs having finally escaped. Mia was pacing about the room, on the phone in tears. My teacher was still frozen in the corner of the room, just staring straight ahead.

Alexander was frantically trying to save my life, and I felt myself warm. It was touching to know that at least I'd be missed. I had always wondered before, in the dark parts of my life, but now I knew. The world might go on without me, but it would never be the same as it was.

My eyes closed and I felt myself slip away.