The Boy in Black

Chapter 4

The rest of the day went by more or less the same. No one talked to me except to call me names in the hall, people threw wadded up paper balls at my head (which I haven't picked up, straightened out and read in a very long time. I know more or less of what they said already, ranging from something along the lines of  "stupid" to "kill yourself") and besides that, I was ignored. I was bouncing with excitement and anxiousness. It's sort of ironic how I've waited for the end for so long and now that it's finally gonna happen, I'm kind of nervous about it. Is it going to hurt? What comes after, if anything? Is it just like going to sleep? Whatever happens, though, it can't be worse then life on earth.

       When the final bell rang, people buzzed with excitement about leaving school. My teacher tried telling us to have a good weekend but people were too ecstatic about it being the end of school on a Friday to hear him. I stayed seated until most of the room cleared out and then I started to get up. There was no rush, these were my final moments after all. My teacher told me to have a good day and I told him that I hoped he did, too. It would be the last time I talked to him.

       As I walked out of class, I remembered that I still had library books that I'd finished in my bag. I started to head to the library and I studied the halls as I went. It would be the last time I walked this route. When I got to the library, I put my books in the return slot and looked around at my safe haven for the past couple of years. I would miss it, and the librarian. She always recommended me books and smiled at me when I walked by. She was a sweet lady.

    I walked out and started making my way to the stairs that went up to the roof for the last time. I opened the door and gentle wind blew in my face. I took my backpack off and set it on the ground and dug a piece of notebook paper and a pen out.

    To whoever finds this,

I was going to write individual notes but I have no one to write them to. No one cares about me. If they don't ignore me, they hate me. And that's okay, I guess I get it. However, I wanted to say some final words to whoever would listen. So here they are:

I know that I'm basically invisible and that I don't matter to the universe in the grand scheme of things. I know that I don't matter to people, either. Almost everyone that I've met has made that pretty obvious right off the bat. But even if I was ignored, I existed. And I had a life. And I had interests and little things that I loved, like music playing through earbuds and laying in rain. I had thoughts and opinions and

I WAS HERE.

Thank you for listening to my words, even if you didn't listen until my last ones.

                                                           ~Barry Henry Allen

    When I finished, I put my pen back in my bag, folded the piece of paper and stuck it underneath my backpack. I stood up and slowly walked to the ledge, staring out from the top of the three story building at the horizon. The sky looked like it was darkening, as if it was gonna start raining soon. I love the rain. I took a deep breath and stepped up onto the ledge. As I stared down at the ground, I contemplated all that I was leaving behind. It wasn't much.

    I shuffled forward until half of my feet were off the ledge, and the only thing standing between me and the pavement below were the balls of my feet that I was barely balancing on. This was it. I spread my arms out, smiled and leaned forward.

    Suddenly, the promise of the end of my pain was snatched just out of reach when arms wrapped around my torso and pulled me back onto the roof for the second time that day.

    When the shock wore off of what just happened, the reality settled in that I had failed my attempt again because someone saved me. Who saved me?