A short story by me
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Irene's Point Of View
Right now, I'm in my room alone, crying. While my wrist was bleeding due to several cuts made by a tiny pocket knife. I wonder, how can a small, pocket knife could make someone bleed. I wonder why, why isn't there anyone out there who loves me.
Everyone hates me even myself. I hate me too.
"Come on Irene! Just do it!" Voices lingered in my head.
"Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself now Irene."
"Why are you wasting time? Living with hate?"
"Don't you hate living? Or you wanna suffer instead?"
I opened my window, stepped on a chair, and let myself fall down with no regrets.
"Sorry, but we couldn't save her."
Thank you God.
Before I jumped, I wrote a simple death letter to my so-called family.
Dear, "family",
When you read this letter, I'm gone for good. I wrote this letter so that I can express how I feel when you treated me like shit. I hope everyone is happy now, right? Oh yeah, I heard that everyone in this family has murdered someone. And the person you killed was me. You treated me with upmost hate and no love. I hope you won't cry nor visit my grave. Goodbye that's all I wanna say to you.
No love,
Irene ;)
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I hope this will be a lesson for everyone who doesn't appreciate their
relatives/friends.
