I wait a little bit until I'm absolutely sure that Jake is gone, and I grab a bunch of pieces of cardboard from cigarette boxes and papers. I tear them all into smaller pieces, then I grab a thin tank top I've since discarded because it smelled terrible from not being washed. I slide the tank top under the door, and I set the pieces of cardboard and paper under the door, light them on fire and carefully shove them out so the flame out. It's a dangerous plan but better than any other fucking thing I could have done. Now I just have to wait. See if anyone sees the house on fire before I burn out with it. It's a win win situation I guess, I die or I get saved and Jake with his sick fucking head will go to prison.
I smell smoke and I see it flow into my room as well, and I breathe in hard and long. Hopefully someone sees.
As much as I say I would be fine with death
I truthfully want to be able to feel Taylor in my arms one more time.
Talk to his family one more time.
Feel happy one more time.
But at this rate, im not sure what the last thing im going to do is.
I guess we're just back to the waiting game.
And the roof is getting hard to see.
But I'm sure I'll make it out okay
Even if I'm laying on the floor and my lungs begin to burn.
I'll make it.
I'll see Tay.
It'll be okay.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Boy.Teen Fiction
Taylor weighs a whopping 98 pounds, and in his mind he weights over 300 all thanks to a comment a few boys made in the locker room. He goes through sweat, blood, and tears just to become the pretty boy society expects him to be.