Suicide.

Flashback 4

Flashback 4

3 years ago...

It was time for school!  I got up at five o'clock (couldn't sleep) and stood.  I wasn't that tired, from excitement.  I ran to my closet and put on my outfit:  a short-sleeved aqua blue t-shirt with a black and white panda on the front, a black skirt with aqua blue polka-dots, and some black and white converses.

I brushed my hair, and put on makeup for the first time ever.  I applied clear lipgloss that tasted like sweet surgar, and white sparkly eyeshadow.  It wasn't that neat, but I was getting better...

Then I poured milk in a red bowl, shook the Cheerios out, and wolfed it down.  I stood, stretched, and hurridly brushed my teeth in the bathroom.  Afterwords I put my hair up in a sexy-ish messy bun.  Whoa, Danielle.  Dress to impress.  Not seduce.

I giggled at my thought and ran to Nick's room, bursting in like I owned the place.  "Nick!  Get up.  Let's get ready!"

"Ugh.  Go away!  Need.  Sleep."  I smacked him with a pillow, repeating this until he stood.  

He threw a harsh phrase at me that scarred me forever:  "God, Danielle!  When Dad died, I thought that was the end!  I didn't expect for you to be just like him!  Damn..."

I felt tears pour down my cheeks.  This day was starting off pretty rough.  I looked up at Nick.

"D-Danielle...I-I'm..."  he began, but I just exploded right there.  I let loose curses I'd learned from Dad, and stored in the back of my mind in case I'd need them later.

"Shut the fuck up!  I hate you!  I'm not like our asshole we call a Dad!  Bitch, think before you talk!  Are you retarded or something?  Stop ruining my day like the fucking dick you are, and go get ready!"

For the first time ever, I felt like Dad, even though I claimed not to be.  But Nick just nodded, and slowly went downstairs.  I was enraged.

Clenching my fists and shrieking into one of his pillows, I searched intensly through his room for cigs.  

I made note of every place he hid them...

1.  Shoes...

2.  Sock and underwear drawer...

3.  Coat pockets...

4.  Jeans pockets...

5.  Under the mattress...

6.  In the pillowcases and sheets...

I grabbed them all and stormed to the bathroom, then threw them in the sink, and poured water on them.  Satisfied, I returned the ruined cigs and washed my hands.

So much for a perfect day.

---

Later, Mom drove us to school.  It was seven forty-five, and we were right on time.  I stepped into the Gym where the eighth graders waited for class to start, next to Sean.  I smiled.

"Hi, Sean!"  I giggled, hugging him.  He shook me off and looked at me, with pure confusion.

"Do I know you?"  Sean asked.

I rolled my eyes.  "Stop being stupid.  You know me!  We met at the park!  We used to go there every Saturday!  And a week ago we went backpack shopping at Walmart!  Remeber, dumbo?"

I watched as the following expressions washed over his face:  confusion/regret/anger/terror.  "What the hell?  Are you stalking me?!"  His voice raised to a nervous level that echoed across the Gym.  Every person turned and stared at me.

"Stalker?"  murmured a group of people.

"She knows I go to the park every Saturday...and...where I went backpack shopping..."  his voice was clear and everyone gasped and shot me disgusted glares and judging expressions.

My eyes watered.  I never knew Sean would do that.  Then I watched him wrap a protective arm around Paris, the most stuck-up popular girl.  She kissed his cheek and hugged him back.

Oh, God. 

Sean played me.  He made me think I was loved, just to send me crashing down.  And he dumped me for, of all girls, Paris.

I was upset, and panicking, and really tired all of a sudden.  I ran out of the Gym, into the bathroom.  And there I burst into sobs.  It was like my whole summer - meant absolutly nothing.  Every memory of happiness, torn apart and erased.

And, after everything Sean had done, after what had happened...

...I still loved him.