The Suicide Girl [Completed]

Chapter 55: Her Past (Part One)

After eating about two plates of food at the buffet, Tristan and I decided to talk to each other. At first, we didn't have anything to talk about because there wasn't really anything to do. We knew most of our interests and dislikes because of how much closer we had gotten when we found out about the whole Blood Assassin and Atlas Bomb fiasco. That's when I suggested something.

"What about we talk more about our pasts?" I asked. Tristan perked up at this idea. "I mean, we know some of what our pasts were like, but not really much."

"That's actually a great idea," Tristan said, sighing in relief that we finally had something to talk about.

"I'll go first!"

Tristan blinked at my sudden enthusiasm. He smiled and chuckled a little, leaning over and holding my face lightly. "Okay."

I gave him a cheeky smile.

I was a normal child. I had a family. My mother and father were alive, and I had an older sister. By now, she would've been 20. My father always wondered how I had gotten such gloomy grey eyes, and it turned out to be the fact that it was my grandfather who passed it down to me, though he passed away long before I were born. The grey eyes supposedly skipped every other generation. My sister got normal brown eyes, which I was always jealous of. We got along so well that it was hard to get us away from each other.

She was my only friend.

Besides having the rarest attribute in the world, I was completely normal. I didn't like people because of what they said about me, so I avoided them. I didn't talk to them because I thought I'd have a family for an eternity, or at least until I died, and I wouldn't need people. But that's when things began changing. Everything was changing. I was four years old. My dad lost his job in accounting, and my mom got fired from her job as a chef. We moved closer to southern Alaska.

People there were much nicer and kinder. They loved a lot of things and never really hated us. I, of course, got a lot of attention as a child. I mean, why not? I wielded a powerful attribute that I thought I'd never unlock, and I found myself getting stuck in a kindergarten class.

I didn't talk to people and focused more on work than anything else. Because of what happened to my parents' jobs, I wanted to grow up to be able to protect them: getting us food and money so that we wouldn't end up living in the cold. The students in all of my classes hated me, and it wasn't any secret. There was always one boy who seemed to be almost surprised by me. I didn't know why.

He was, of some sorts, weird.

He always gave me some of his Halloween candy because he knew I didn't go trick-or-treating, shared Thanksgiving cards when we made them in class, gave Christmas presents he made with his mother, and hugged me willingly for New Years. Valentine's Day was usually his day to shine and shower me with treats and cards and some sort of childlike love.

I hated it.

I hated it with all my guts.

This stopped probably around fifth grade, when we had all opened our eyes to the reality that was crashing down before us. Boys stayed with boys and girls stayed with girls. I, however, was left alone. I was the only outcast too much of a pest to hang out with. Sixth grade was when I turned my back to the world.

My parents were killed.

My sister was killed.

And the murderer was out there.

What else could I do? The world had turned on me, so I would do the same. I want to say that the beginning of high school was when I started committing suicide, but it feels like it started way earlier than that.

In 8th grade, I had been finishing high school in online classes (I was a literal genius), and I finished the day before high school. I called to cancel my classes at the high school my parents enrolled me at ahead of time, but they suggested I stayed because it was free lunch and protection by the school government.

Because I basically had to wait four years before college, I used this time to try to kill myself. Keyword: TRY. The same weirdo guy who showered me with fake affection in grade school had decided to barge into my decisions as well and keep me from committing suicide.

I assume you know the rest.

Going back to my younger years. I don't remember much because of what has happened over the past how many years and how much drama has happened. I also can't remember much due to the Atlas Bomb exploding and the effects due to suicide attempts. They said that if I ever remembered anything, then it should be easier for me to recover even more memories.

For me, dying was easier than facing the world.

And I regret thinking that.

I hated myself for thinking that I had a reason to die, even though it was just the opposite. I had a reason to live, but I couldn't see it because I was too blind.

And now I'm here.

This is where it got me to.