Confessions of a dead girl 2

2. The day I die

In the morning, mum will come knocking at my door. At the lack of response to her third knock, she'll probably get alarmed. When they get the door to open, they'll find me. I hate to think what mum and dad will react like. It almost makes me wonder if I want to do this. Is it worth this, causing all this pain to them?

Someone will find their senses to call up the police and medics eventually. They'll tow me away, clean up the blood. They'll be cold and white and efficient and I'll be just another case. Mum will look around, wondering what went wrong. Another twinge of guilt will work it's way onto her face, erupting as tears. It's so painful thinking about them. I hope dad doesn't get sick 'cause of me. I can't do anything without being a nuisance, I guess.

When I'll be gone and the mess cleaned, my room of eighteen years will be unusually ordered and clean and quiet. Sunlight, through the parting rain clouds will pour in through the white curtains, highlighting that ink stain from three years back, slowly heating up my bed. The wind chime above my table will sway slightly, tinkling. Outside the sun will rise higher, people unrelated to us will go about their lives, the world will spin yet another angle. Everything will be just as it was. Except for me.

This is how it'll be when I die.

I wanted to die in the rain. But I'll content myself with myself with the fact that it rained the night I died.


to be continued...