Chapter One:
I sat in my classroom starring at a blank sheet of college ruled paper.  Thoughts ran through my head about the sensitive subject that I had to write about.  Tears began to fall down my pasty cheeks.  I felt as if my heart was caving in, twisting my insides around.  I didn’t feel well.  I felt sick.  I raised my hand, and my teacher came to me almost right away.  She looked at my face and squinted her eyes into a sensitive manor.
“What’s wrong?”  She asked almost worried.  She wasn’t the type of teacher, I mean person to really care about teenagers feelings.  Especially a person like me.  I know that is different then everyone else in the town that we were in.  I stared up at her with a blank look on my face.  “It’s too hard for me to write this.  I need to go see Mrs. Whalen.  I’m not feeling very well.”
Her considerate face turned into a devil’s expression.  From the look of her face it seemed as if, I had swore at her or did something completely criminal.  She looked shock and appalled by my statement.  I took a deep breathe as she said, “I’ll let you go see her, but, you have to do this assignment for homework.  I want this completed.  This assignment has to be in tomorrow when you come in to class.”  I stood up and nodded my head.  I picked up my blue messenger bag and walked out the door with a spiral notebook in my left hand.
When the door shut behind me, I starred down the endless hallway.  My eyes filled up with tears as I walked as fast as I could to Mrs. Johnson’s office.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  For so long I felt as if my life was always going to be shit.  I stopped hoping for a change.  I decided to lie down and let all the pain wash over me like a river washing over rocks.  I wanted to die.  It was that simple for me.  Living seemed to be hell, and I was sick and tired of suffering.  I wanted to go some place else, anywhere but here.
I reached her door and peeked inside the rectangular window that was on the door.  I saw her sitting at her desk reading papers.  I knocked on and then stepped back so she could open the door and not hit me.  When she looked up when the door was wide open, she saw the pain in my eyes.  The tears flowing down my checks leaving marks.  Her sympathetic face was much more sincere then my teacher’s.  She replied miserably for me to come in and sit down.  I followed her command almost immediately.
I sat in the low leather chair in Mrs. Johnson’s office.  I didn’t know what to say to her.  I kept crying, and I didn’t know how to express my feelings about my situation.  I finally blew my nose, and wiped my eyes so I could see her.  I sniffled a little and began to talk.  I talked about my piece of writing that I had to do for senior comp.  I explained that I had a one-night stand with a guy that I was incredibly in love with, and that now he’s not talking to me.  And about the horrible things he said to me about that night.  
It wasn’t just about the paper; it was about how everything seemed to be changing in my life.  I wasn’t that close with my mom anymore, how I will be graduating from high school, and how I didn’t want to grow up.  Mrs. Whalen knew about my home life.  When my sister was in school she would come to her, and I have in the passed also.  I felt comfortable knowing that I didn’t have to detail things that in my mind didn’t seem relevant.
Mrs. Johnson asked me if I was okay to finish school.  I knew I had to do something that day in a class, but I knew that I couldn’t make it through the day.  I decided to go home.  I sat in the office waiting for my mom to come sign me out.  I sat by the window starring out onto the landscape that will be torn down very soon from the construction for the new school that will be finished in four years.  I didn’t know what to think.  My mom hated that I would come home.  I’m always finding an excuse to stay home.  I’m a teenager, that’s what I do.  But this was different.  I was really depressed.  And I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold out for the day.  I had to be some place where I could be alone.
I sat by my mom’s side in the car.  We reached the streetlight and waited for the light to turn green.
“Is this about that guy Jonathan.”  She stated angrily.  My sister, being an untrusting sibling told my mom that I lost my virginity to a guy that I barely knew and now, he’s stalking my sister.
The tears were still falling down my cheeks as I looked at her.  “No, it’s not.”  I replied in an innocent, soft voice.  I looked out the window as the car began to roll forward hoping to trip the wire so the light would change.  God, I wanted it to so badly.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you anymore.  You haven’t been yourself in a long time.  You’re never at school, and it’s like whenever you go, you don’t do anything.  It shows in your progress reports and on your report cards too.  I don’t get you anymore.  What’s the matter with you?”
I turned to her and stared at her profile and replied in an upset voice, “I hate my life.”  I forced back the tears as I struggled to state how I felt.  I heard the rage build up inside of her before she spoke.  I know that she didn’t like the way her life was going either because of her recent separation from my stepfather.  God, I hated him so much.  When he told her he was leaving, it was two days before Christmas Eve, and three days before Christmas day.  
I remember I was sleeping and I woke up to the sounds of them arguing.  I carefully snuck by the door and opened it a crack and heard him say that he was moving to Maine.  I was glad, but mostly upset for my mom.  I heard the hurt in her voice when she asked him if he was going to ask her if she was invited along with us.  He asked and she said that she wouldn’t go.  That was the last time he would be living at my house.  He wasn’t there a lot anyways.  He quit his job and was taking annual trips up there for no reason.  Until that day all revealed itself.  My mom would go through his closet a couple of days later to pack up all of his stuff.  Most of it was gone.  He had snuck up most of his things up there during the trips.
He had also hid from my mom the money that he had received from his stepfather after he past away.  That money was supposed to be for us.  But not surprisingly he had been using it for him self.  I was shocked and appalled as my mom pushed back the tears of the evidence that she had in her hand.  I saw a tear fall from her eye and I didn’t know what to do.  I wasn’t too emotional for someone who was so sensitive when it came to this type of thing.  I didn’t know if I should hug her, or stand there.  The best that I could do was walk away.  And I hated myself for it.  Nothing seems clear in that moment.  I have heard different things from people like ‘you mom liked it when he left now he’s gone for good.’  I didn’t get why people have to be so cruel when it came to that.  
“You think my life is perfect?”  My mom began to say.  “Your not the only person who’s life sucks.”  I continued to stare out the window with nothing but my tears flowing down.  I felt as if no one understood me.  I just kept thinking of going home and killing myself.  My mind raced as I tried to figure out how.  Should I fill the bathtub up and slice my wrists in there?  No, I don’t want to be found naked.  In my bed with my favorite cloths on?  No, my mom won’t be able to sell the bed that way if there’s a bloodstain all over it.  The only way she would find me was because of the stench that would flow through the house a couple of days later.  What about jumping out the window?  No, can’t do that.  The height is to low.  Well, it’s not like I can take a gun and blow my head off, because I don’t have access to a gun.
My mom pulled the car up to the house and practically threw the house key at me before I left the car.  She sped away before I even realized she was gone.  I continued to think about suicide.  I know that I want it instant, so cutting myself, hanging or drowning was out of the question.  I didn’t want to feel any more pain.  I just wanted to die.
I walked into the kitchen and took a huge knife from the knife rack.  I held it up staring at my reflection in the medal.  I hated the way I looked.  I hated everything about my life.  I didn’t have any money, I wasn’t skinny or popular.  I lost my friends two years ago, and I feel as if I have nothing to live for any more.  I began to lower the knife to my left wrist.  I shut my eyes really tight and begged a higher power for strength and forgiveness.  The tears began to run down my face as I opened my eyes to see what I couldn’t do.
I threw the knife in the sink even though it wasn’t dirty and I fell to the ground hitting my head with my two hands that were in a fist.  I hated myself so much.  I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t go through with it.  This is what I want.  I want to die, but I can’t bring myself to do it.  I don’t have the strength to commit suicide.  I wish I did so much.  I sat there and cried for a long time, until I heard the phone ring.  I rubbed my eyes to fix my blurry vision and sniffled the snot back into my nose so it wouldn’t pour out.
I walked quickly into the living room and came to the phone that wasn’t far away.  I looked at the caller id and didn’t recognize the number that shown up on it.  It was some doctor’s office in Bridgeport.  I stopped and wondered who it was.
“Hello.”  I replied with a state of confusion.  
“Andrea, it’s aunt Julia, your sister called me and told me what happened.  Are you okay?”  She asked with sympathy and discontent in her voice.  
I took a deep breath before I began to explain myself.  As I spoke, a feeling of uncertainty washed over me like a tidal wave.  I didn’t know if I was making any sense.  My mind was blank, and I didn’t know how to speak.  Everything seemed hopeless and I wanted to stop thinking, and start dying.
“What did your mother say about this?” She asked.  I told her that my mom didn’t seem very interested in my feelings.  I know that I had depression but I didn’t realize that I had it this bad.  My aunt asked me what I wanted to do, whether I would stay home or something, and I told her I didn’t know.  She said that she had to continue working and that she would give me a call before she left work.  I hung up the phone after saying our goodbyes.  I didn’t know how to feel or what to think.  My mind was a blank sheet of paper waiting to be filled with something.  But that something never came.
I walked upstairs to my room feeling the depression hang over me.  I fell onto my bed and tried to sleep.  I couldn’t sleep so turned over and turned on the television to see if there was something to fall asleep to.  I wasn’t sure how to deal with my feelings.  It’s not like I truly hated myself.  That couldn’t be it.  I have learned to love myself, even if I am over weight and average looking.  I love my personality.  I’m loud, honest and crack jokes all the time.  I also stand up for myself and other people when others decide to make fun of people.  I’m the kind of person that can’t stand seeing people get hurt in anyway.  I always jump in and try to help them.  But why was it that I could love but also hate who I am?  Was this some kind of trick?  How is this possible for one person to feel?  It seems so hypocritical to think about.
I sat there starring at the TV screen and thought about what was it that I hated about my life.  I closed my eyes tight and bowed my head and thought really hard about it.  I lifted my head back up, and opened my eyes.  Right away I knew what was the matter with me.  I hated my daily life.  I hated how it was going and how it was just the same thing every single day.  I wanted something different.  I was so exhausted feeling that life wasn’t going to get any better.
I know that I’m just eighteen years old, and I know that people want adventure and excitement in their lives and they need to make adventure in their lives.  But this was how my schedule was going each and everyday during the week.  Wake up by seven, go to school for seven hours.  During those seven hours, I would almost get caught smoking everyday.  I would have to sneak around school for a single cigarette to keep me calm and collective.  After school I would go home and stay there.  Then I would wake up the next morning and do the same thing.
The weekends weren’t much better.  Every weekend it seemed I was doing the same boring thing over and over again.  I wanted something different to happen.  I did go clubbing a couple of weekends and I did have fun, but it seemed to get boring and I wasn’t sure why.  But when I didn’t go, I would go to some movies, or hang out with my friends.  They kept me together when I would break down.  Sometimes I would be so bad that I would have to stay in my room and listen to music and have no one bother me because I would be so upset about something.
I starred at the TV as it played a random movie that I’ve seen a hundred times before.  I heard the front door open, which caused my door to move.  And it did the same when the down stairs door closed. I knew that was my mom.  I didn’t move or yell down anything to her.  I was still hurting from our conversation in the car earlier.  I knew that she didn’t mean to hurt me and I know that she wanted be there for me.  But, you can’t help someone when you’re partly going through the same thing.
I loved my mom; I loved her so much that I didn’t want her to see me in the condition that I was in.  My checks where stained from dried salty tears that poured down my face not to long ago.  My eyes were red as a stoner’s eyes and my nose was filled with mucous.  I couldn’t even sniffle to clear my nose.  I had to get up and find something to blow my nose.  I began to breath heavy and feel a sudden dizziness fall through me.  I heard my mom yell up to me telling me to pick up the phone in a cruel and hurtful voice.
I picked up the phone and slowly put it up to my ear after I pressed the talk button.  “Hello?” I asked in a heartbreaking and unconditional normal voice.  As soon as my aunt Julia began to speak I heard the down stairs phone hang up.  My aunt asked me in a concerned voice whether or not I thought about my decision.  I took a deep breathe and then said that it would be a good idea for me to go up there because I wasn’t getting any support from anyone at home.
We said our good byes as she said after she got out of work she would pick me up.  I slightly smiled to myself then replied in a happier voice.  “Ok.”
Both of us hung up the phone as I proceeded to pack my bags for two days.  I thought to myself if she was getting out now, and she was in Bridgeport it would only take her twenty minutes to a half hour to get here.  As soon as I finished packing my bag, I walked down stairs to get a drink out of the refrigerator.
As I turned the corner of the final step, I saw my mom sitting on the couch watching TV drunk with despair.  She looked at me when she saw me out of the corner of her right eye.  Her full attention was on me and I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me.  I took a silent vow to myself that I would keep our conversation to short statements.
“Did you decide whether you where going to spend the night at your father’s?”  My mom had asked.  Then I replied to myself correcting my vow, very short.  “Yes I have, and I am.”  I walked towards the kitchen.  As I emerged I began to walk back up the twelve steps to my mess and uncontrolled room.  My mom stopped me once again with another question.  “So, how are you going to get to school?  It’s only Tuesday and you’re already staying home?”  I took a deep breath, then a sip of my drink.
“I’m going to stay home from school Wednesday.  Then I’m coming back that day.” I tried to get away again when my mother decided to add a comment.  “Mrs. Johnson called me at work and told me that maybe I should make you a appointment to talk to a counselor.  She made an appointment for Thursday after school okay?”  I nodded my head away from her and began to walk up the stairs to my sanctuary.
“Mom, tell me when aunt Julia gets here.”  I said as I walked up.  And opened the door on the left that was covered with Josh Hartnett pictures.  I walked straight to my bed that was in the middle of the room.  I crawled on it and lay on my back.  I closed my eyes and could still picture my room the exact way it always is.
The walls were sky blue with posters covering most of the paint.  A full bed with matching side tables and dressers that was given to me by the same woman who had given my mom the side table that were placed in the living room.  My little nick-knacks cover the top of each wooden piece.  The air-conditioning was still in my right window waiting for to be used once again.  The covers of my bed matched the walls and looked like a Monet painting sprawled across my bed.
I closed my eyes and couldn’t wait to leave my house.  I felt as if I had lost something.  Something real and true.  Today was a day that was defiantly different from the others.  I wanted something new, but I didn’t expect that something so horrible and tragic as this would be a story that would stand out for the rest of my life.  The weird part is, when something happens, anything, and if it was just ten minutes ago, it’s all a memory.  Just like this short thought that is overwhelming my mind, it will be just a memory.
I heard my mom calling me interrupting my odd train of thought.  I sat up and picked up my bag and then began my way to an interesting night.  That will be just a memory.