Marrika Tains, the name I was given 17 years ago by my father, a name I don't even remember, no one used it, I was nobody not to my mother, not to my peers, not even the strangers I saw on the streets. Not since my father's death years ago. It all went downhill not even two weeks after we found out about his death did we find out how it happened, a failed suicide mission. Well, I guess that's why they are called a suicide mission. My mother abandoned me but I didn't matter I had all I needed, I didn't need friends. I had the voices in my head, I did do self-harm to myself but I wasn't suicidal or depressed, I just wanted to, I don't know why but I just did. The voices in my head were pleasant compared to what I had heard from the others. People eventually just ignored me, it was almost like they were scared of me. That's funny they had nothing to be scared of then. I didn't have any hate towards my mother, she was just trying to cope, wasn't she? It wasn't until 3 years after the accident that I felt hatred towards my mother. She started to bring in loud men. They stayed for a few days then left. My mother was never home, she was always at some club, and when she was home she was asleep, wasted, drunk, or busy with her "new boyfriend". It was annoying, it didn't help that the "boyfriends" were too. I hated everything I stopped going to school, but nobody noticed not the teachers, not the students, not my own mother. It was like I didn't exist. I didn't exist, I had nothing to live for, everything was so annoying, and even the voices in my head had begun to argue. It was all so annoying. However, before I could take my life, something else needed to be done. I went up to the attic and found my dad's old pistol, it was small and black and it fit in my hand perfectly. When I held it I felt a surge of adrenaline, I was on top of the world, and nothing could stand in my way. I took it upstairs. My mother was sitting on the couch, I couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not, but it didn't matter, I was gonna get the hell out this place once this was over. I walked into the living room, gun behind my back, and my mother immediately lifted her head to look at me. I saw another side of her the old one that I saw when dad was still alive. I almost felt bad about what I was about to do. But only almost, I couldn't trust her I just couldn't "Marrika?" she asked. I cringed at the sound of my name, I hadn't heard it in so long and to hear for the first time in forever from the person I hated the most, the person who had put me through all this misery? Well, it grated my nerves. I had a plan but, never mind that I couldn't wait. I whipped the gun from behind my back and pulled the trigger. The noise was loud and it startled me. I heard my mother scream, I know that had alerted our neighbors, our house wasn't normally loud. I ran upstairs as fast as I could, I couldn't let the police or neighbors get here, to interrupt me. I grabbed my rope and tied a noose, I was able to do it quite quickly because I had been practicing, the rope was already connected to the fan. It should be able to carry my weight, after all I was fairly small. I got my chair stood on it, tightened it and then I let the chair fall away. It was instant, no pain, no last thought, the chair was gone and it was over. That's where I would be wrong. I saw the bright lights of my room, police around my body, but wait how could that be possible? I was seeing myself. Was I ghost? no there's no way, I wanted to escape from this place. Not stay forever. No, I was still here, a ghost, forced to walk among the cursed place forever.
