I brought the cigarette to my lips, inhaling the cancerous smoke. It wasn't like a cared anymore, I was long past caring about anything around me, let alone myself.
The black bags under my eyes told anyone who cared to look that I hadn't slept in a long time and my blonde hair was messy and unkempt, grown long, almost past my eyes after months without a haircut. My arms were smudged with dirt and ashes from the cigarettes, giving a terrible black burn look to my body.
The small amount of light stubble I had once had growing along my chin was gone, replaced by tiny white slivers, hair growing because of malnutrition. I was slowly starving to death and I didn't care, I didn't want to care.
My eyes closed and I hoped for the end, just like the hundreds of other times.
They didn't open.
White lips, pale face, breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste, light's gone, day's end
Struggling to pay rent, long nights, strange men
Sitting on the very edge of the bridge, swinging my legs probably was the smartest thing, but with the tears streaming down my cheeks I couldn't even see where my hands were, let alone where the death drop that would surely kill me was. My once tanned skin had grown pale, deathly pale almost but I didn't notice, just like everything else in my life.
The scars on my wrist told another story, the release from the numbness I was feeling and something to get me back, even for just a few minutes. They weren't just on my wrist either, they covered most of my upper thighs and stomach, depression from the age of 10 does that to a person.
I choked back one last sob before I felt my hands slip off the ledge, my black hair streaming up behind me as I fell.
I want to say I regretted it as I fell, but for once, I finally felt alive.
Even just for that split second.
And they say she's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries, and they scream
The worst things in life come free to us 'cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams and she don't want to go outside tonight
My hand shaking madly, I held the metal death trap to my head. I had fallen to my knees, my body falling hard onto the floor of my living room and trying not to falter, not again, not like last time.
As I opened my eyes again, they landed on the pots of flowers that decorated the outside of the room. All of the flowers were wilted brown, long dead after I stopped watering them and with no one else to care for them, they weren't going to make it much longer. Just like me.
Raising my hand once more, the trigger of the gun clutched in my finger and I placed it to my temple before I utter one last message under my breath begging for forgiveness after we lost the first two.
"I'm sorry I didn't see your pain, just like you didn't see mine.
Forgive me for what I didn't see and what I did, I'll see you again."
And with that, I pulled the trigger.
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside for angels to fly
Angels to fly
With the rope already around my neck I kicked the chair away, but not before looking out of the window one last time. It was a full moon, just like the night we received the news of giving up, then the jump, then the gunshot. It was like clockwork, and I was the next to go.
I was still wearing my red and black hoodie, the same one I first met you in and the one I last saw you in. The one I saw you in for the last time. Half of us had already taken the steps to say goodbye and every message of hope and thanks had come our way, but no help.
It was all we needed.
Taking my final breath was the release I needed, finally able to float away and forget.
Forget you.
Ripped gloves, raincoat, tried to swim and stay afloat
Dry house, wet clothes, loose change, bank notes
Weary-eyed, dry throat, call girl, no phone
The cars rushed by, none of them paid any attention to a young man walking down the side of the road with headphones in. If you looked closely you'd be able to see the weeks of no sleep, the weeks of wondering what we did wrong to loose so many, so fast.
And just like a row of dominos, we were falling and my piece was the next in line.
I never really believed in angels even though I was religious, but it was the sort of hope I clung on too, hoping I would see them again, just like they all promised me. I clung to the lie, hoping the next victim of death would be me, and I could finally see what death had ripped away from me.
I made a beeline to the road, waiting until a truck came, a truck big enough and going fast enough that there was no chance of surviving.
And then I ran.
And they say, she's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems, slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries, they scream
The worst things in life come free to us and we're all under the upper hand
Go mad for a couple grams and we don't want to go outside tonight
The pills in the bottle on my nightstand called to me, begging me to open the bottle and swallow all of them in one gulp. I knew it wouldn't take long for me to give in, as the last of the six in the line of fire I knew I was next.
I had found him first, hanging from the ceiling with a rope around his neck. I had screamed and cried but there was no bringing him back and nothing I did could change the past, what he had done couldn't be reversed.
The lid was easy to open, far too easy in my opinion, but it wasn't ling before I had gulped down the entire bottle, all 30 little white pills. The darkness came next, swallowing me whole.
I had hoped it was just as easy for the others, quick and fast, but all I wanted was too see them again.
But the promise was broken.
And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland, or sell love to another man
It's too cold outside, for angels to fly
Angels to fly, to fly, fly
For angels to fly, to fly, to fly
For angels to die
"I'm sorry I didn't see you were suffering, just like no one else did. No one saw the signs until it was too late, and I hope you forgive me. All of you."
And just like that, six books closed without the ending they deserved.
