Soul Like a Withered Rose

Chapter 1

"You suck."

"Everyone hates you."

"You're stupid, ugly, and worthless. That's all you're ever going to be."

These were the things that ran through my mind as I left my apartment, a withered rose clutched in my right hand. I felt my flesh sting as the still sharp thorns pierced my skin, but nothing hurt more than the dagger in my chest.

It was a metaphorical dagger, of course. One that had been placed there by humanity. Well, more specifically, by my classmates and their relentless bullying.

I didn't understand what made them hate me so much. I still don't. After all, I was always nice to them. I'd never given them a reason to hate me. Yet, everyday I'd get pushed around.

That's why I've had so many injuries. Just three months prior, I was pushed down a flight of stairs at school and broke my right leg and left wrist, also managing to damage my right knee in the process.

Painful memories. That's all those were. But soon, very soon, I knew I'd be setting myself free. Still, there was a tugging at my heart.

Was I doing the right thing? After all, I did have my family and a couple close friends who I knew cared about me deeply. I knew that this would hurt them. Kill them, even.

"No, Lotte," I muttered to myself. "Stop thinking about that. None of it matters now...You don't matter." Tears from an overload of emotional pain stung my eyes, blurring my vision as I walked down the bustling Parisian street.

My parents and siblings had gone to the airport to pick up my friend August, who was coming to visit from Scotland. I knew that they would likely be getting home at any moment and would discover that I was gone, so I hurried my pace, hoping that they wouldn't find me before I could get to my destination.

I had lied to them all, told them that I just had to finish some homework before Auggie arrived. I had other plans, though.

You see, I had decided that that was going to be the day that I ended my life. I was sick of dealing with depression and tired of the kids at school...I didn't want to live and that was that. I'd made up my mind.

I shoved my left hand in my pocket as I walked, looking around at the people near me. I studied their faces, their expressions, their clothing as I tried to distract myself from my current situation.

There was a blonde girl in a purple sweater, who was sitting at the bus stop, sketching something in her notepad. At first glance, she appeared happy, but looking deeper, I saw the nervous expression on her face, the way she kept fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater and tapping her pencil against her sketch pad. She was anxious about something, that much was clear.

I glanced over to a street corner and saw a woman dressed in all black, a young girl in tow. Tears were streaming down the child's face as the mother knelt down and embraced her, her own eyes red from grief. There had clearly been a death of someone very important to them.

I sighed, pulling my gaze away and staring down at my shoes. Oh, what a cruel, sad world we live in.