Lone Wolf [Discontinued]

Chapter 19

TW: Suicide mention, suicide attempt, blood, detailed self-harm, gore, self-deprecating thoughts, other depressing thoughts, all around depressing stuff, mild swearing (I'm not sorry)

I walked back from the open area to the elevator. I had a mission that I needed to accomplish. Okay, well technically I didn't need to, though I desperately wanted to. The elevator ride was a lot slower than I hoped it would be, though technically it was only 30 seconds long. It just felt long with what I was going through. I walked out quickly and went into my room, telling Friday to lock the door behind me. Voice command AI are amazing.

I rummaged through the rest of the bag that I still hadn't unpacked until I found a small notebook. It had a black leather cover with nothing special on it. I liked it that way. I opened up the book, or well, if you want the proper term, my diary. Actually, it was more like a journal. If you don't know the difference, a journal is more personal then a diary. There's a lot of stupid stuff in there, but the pages I wanted to see had red marker bordering it. Normally I would take that as a reason I could skip those pages, not today though. Well, I would skip the pages if I ever looked back on this on a normal basis.

I flipped through the pages before I got to the first page of that section. I moved from the floor to my bed. I shook my head to clear my thoughts before slowly, very slowly, I lowered my head to read my handwriting. It was sloppy, but wasn't rushed. There was a title at the top of the page, but the word was to tear stained to read. I forced myself to read the words on the page. I'm probably going to regret this.

I'm done. The bullying at school, then how Peter doesn't care. May and Ben are to busy to notice. Heck, 'cause of this stuff I don't remember the last time I felt genuinely happy. When was that? Peter wouldn't be home for another couple of hours so I had plenty of time to do this.What is this, you might ask? Well, you're about to see that.

I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from my desk and set to work. I felt the tears I had been suppressing all day build up then fall onto the paper smudging the lines and writing. I sat down at the desk and my hand hovered over the paper. I wasn't sure what to write so I just vented onto the paper.When you don't know what to say follow your gut, and if your gut says nothing give up.

Dear Whoever Found This,

You probably have a separate part I wrote to you somewhere (unless you are the authorities, in which case, you don't).

So, how to start this... Well, life has been... interesting. I've lived with my Aunt May and Uncle Ben for years with my twin brother Peter. My parents died when I was young on a plane crash,

so I don't remember them. All I knew about my parents was that they were good people who only wanted to help others. Though bad things happen to good people, right? So much for karma.

Anyways, probably onto what your reading this for. Though why would anyone actually care? Life has been absolute crap this last year and a half. Yes, that long, and nobody knows. No one knows about the cuts littering my arm, or why I've started talking less. I love helping people, but I only seem to hurt them. So, if I leave I won't hurt anyone right? That seems to be the most efficient way to fix my problem.

So, if you haven't gathered from anything else that has happened, hey, I'm Grace Parker, and these are my final words to everyone.Continued, if you haven't gotten it already I'm ending it tonight. I'm committing suicide.

So, I guess now I do individual notes to the people who pretended to give a shit about me for most of my life. So first, Peter. I'm going to be completely honest. You've been an ok twin. We had a nice life together from the moment I was born. (I'm still slightly mad at you for being older.) I guess I just needed you more than you knew. Love yo, bro.