I'm going to try this kind of story because its been happening a lot at my school. And I almost considered doing this one time. --------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1 You know it's hard, but you keep on going. You know they talk about you behind your back. You know they laugh at you when you're not in the room. But still, you live, when people act like you've died. I write the note over and over again. Hoping that it'll take away my pain. There's only two things that keep me from ending up like those girls on the news: My friend, and him. I want to be with him and I want to keep my friend safe. But it's so hard to go on. "Watcha writing Emma?" Katrina asks me. "A poem and note," I say. I quickly shove the note into my pocket and show her the the note to the guy. She reads over it and laughed. "Purple Nikes? That's the best you can do?" She asks. I laugh with her, knowing that she understands. "Do you think you can give this to him?" I ask her. She takes the note and looks at for its who. "Trevor? You have a crush on Trevor?" I shrug my shoulders. "I'll take it for you." Katrina walks away. I hear loud laughter and look at the table behind me. The tree girls there and red faces and laughing at me. I can tell because they're pointing at me and saying my name. This causes some serious cutting tonight. ------------------------------------------ I know it's kind of short, but I'll update soon. Some of the events in here are somewhat true. Please tell me what you think!
Actually Tash, you might be surprised by the ending. Since I'm writing to you, and some of the events are real, you might already know the outcome. It's sad but as bad as yours.
Oh tash, get off if you don't like it.. These things will happen but just move on with life.. It's a game.
Chapter 2 I got off the buss and walked inside. My dad was watching tv and my mom was making dinner. "Hi Emma, how was your day?" My mom asks. "Fine, but I have a lot of homework." Lie. All lies. My day wasn't fine and I don't have any home work. I just need to be by myself for a while. I drop my backpack in my room and walk into the bathroom. I lock the door behind my and pull out my knife. I tried to stop cutting myself a few years ago. But I can't stop. I slowly cut a thin line down my shoulder. I let the blood flow into the sink. Pain is good. Blood is good. Letting the warmth slide down my arm is good. This pain is better in a way. "Emma, hurry up! I have to go!" My sister calls. She has dance tonight and I'll be alone. "Just a minute Molly!" I slide my shirt down over the cut. The blood isn't dripping anymore, but it still stings. I smile to myself and walk out the bathroom.