Desired Life

Chapter 1: Awakening

Chapter 1: Awakening

  I run up the stairs, tears welling in my eyes. I‘m pretty sure that if someone tries to follow me, which I doubt, will fall thanks to my tears which, astoundingly, haven‘t flooded this goddamned too-many-stairs building. I notice the wooden door right in front of me and open it. This is my last moment on Earth, so I take in everything that I can see from the twentieth floor of this building. Because my life sucks, I don‘t want to live anymore. I can‘t think of a more hateful life than mine. I stand in the ledge of the roof and jump. I am quickly falling at the speed of 9.8 meters per second, or so did my Science teacher say in Monday‘s class this week. The floor quickly makes itself bigger as I am free-falling. I quickly hurtle to the ground. I close my eyes and wait for it and think of the rooftop. I remember its red, shiny flooring and those pipes intertwining now and then. And then...I sense something cold encircling me and then disappearing...

  After some ten seconds of continued fall, I frown, my eyes still closed. "Is it over?" I ask myself mentally. "See for yourself," a calm, deep, soothing male voice whispers in my head. I feel a stronger gust of air and open my eyes. The rooftop appears before my eyes. As soon as I open my eyes, I see the rooftop lurching towards me, or rather vice versa, since I am the one falling. I shout but quickly close my mouth considering how much dirt flies in this ugly, filthy city. I stop right in front of it, two inches of thin air separating the ground and me. I feel myself floating in a strange, still air. I fall face-first on the red, shiny gravel and stand up, cleaning my face, torso and legs from dirt. “What just happened?“ I say out loud. I decide to search for some clues and so I sit on the edge of the building. My thoughts have clarified, and so I am no longer thinking about committing suicide. I stare at the ground, deep in thought. After a short while, I notice the sun is almost disappearing, and, seeing as how little knowledge I’ve got about what happened, I run back towards my house, picking my things at the counter on the lobby. I take my backpack and lunchbox and run off, anxiety reaching over me, my heart racing really fast. My dark blue Nike backpack bobs on my back, my red lunchbox flailing in the air as I run home. 

  When I get home, my mom opens up, her eyes red from crying. She instantly hugs me and holds me tightly in her arms. I relish the moment, warm love filtering me. We both enter the parking lot, closing the metal door and then opening the wooden door to enter the house. As soon as we enter, my father stands up.
  "What were you doing out of school all this time?!" he questions.
  I know I can't tell the truth, so instead, I say, "Well, I was visiting some friends from other schools." 
 Yeah, like my fellow friend death, I add in my mind. My mom looks at me and shakes her head.
  "You had us worried sick!" she shouts. "Did you even think on what we might've thought happened to you while you were gone?!"
  I notice her fear in her expressions, her tone of voice, her twitching eye, her every small movement.
  "I'm sorry, dad. I'm sorry, mom."
  I walk towards them and kiss them in their cheeks lightly.
 "Now go do your homework!" dad commands.
  I take my backpack to my room, not wanting to be in the dining room, since there's where my brothers and I do our homework. I close the door leading to my room. It is, technically, the only male's room, yes, but I still close myself in. I couldn't care less if anyone knocked on the door at times like these. I sit on the floor and question myself on the latest activity of mine. It is quite incomprehensible that someone as me could simply appear back at the rooftop with a single image of it. I still remember my short, heavy breaths after it, though. I feel exhausted still, even after all the time that has happened after the really important, I consider it, incident. I mean, hell, I am creeped out after that little, or rather huge, incident. I am terribly scared, of course. Everyone would be at times like these. But now that I come to think of it...
  I take my phone and message one of my best friends. She goes by the name of Hazel.