Where I am haunts me.

The fluorescent, yellow lighting of the classroom, the smell of utter nothingness, the enclosing, claustrophobic walls and the void I feel within me as I hear the unsettling, rhythmic ticking of the clock.

It all takes me back to when the clock ticked the same way it did as I watched my best friend die just 3 years ago, when I was 12.

The unspeakable pain that flowed within me, engulfing me in a sea of serenity and absolute numbness.

Serenity because I had confirmation. Confirmation that my friend was not in any pain anymore, pain that life had gifted her.

That's when I first discovered how death was the end of suffering. It is ultimate tranquility. That's when I found out death took everything away. Everything that may be crushing you deep within.

When I first discovered what death truly was. An escape. An escape from the horrors of reality. Of my reality.

Suddenly, I'm brought back to my senses. I was lost in thought, and I want to go back. Back to where I'm no one. The essence of nothingness. Back to where I don't feel anything. Absolutely anything.

The bell blares and interrupts my calm thoughts. Thoughts of nothing. Of being nothing.

I walk to the library, my steps heavy with pain and suffering. Everyone and everything weighs me down. They drain me. I've never felt alive since I saw my best friend slip away and enter a world where everything is okay. When she left me, all alone in a world where people hurt me constantly and with zero remorse.

I continue walking, my heart aching as I do, but no one can tell. Nor do they know. How? How can no one know? My parents don't know. My teachers, the counsellors. How can they not know? How can they not realise that I want to end it all. That I hate being alive. I hate it. How can't they tell? I'm not hiding it, in fact, I'm making it blatantly obvious. So someone, anyone, can save me. Because I can't save myself. I've tried, but every single time, I've failed. I've given up on everything.

It's their job to realise, they were literally trained for it. Yet, no one has noticed me. No one. No one noticed me and because of that, I'm in an everlasting spiral towards my inevitable demise.

I reach the library and smile. The library knows. It knows because every book I've picked up has been about death. About how it feels to die. At least something knows.

I travel deep within the library, hoping to get lost within the literary maze. I find a secluded spot and take out an old diary that I've had since I was eleven from my backpack. I rip out the pages that were written on and toss them in the bin. On the first page I write in big cursive letters "THE DIARY OF A DEAD GIRL~THE STORY OF MELANIE HALL."

It's february first. I've decided that I'll give myself 28 days to stay alive, to find someone to save me as I cannot save myself. I'm too weak and giving up is the easiest option for me.

Everyday, I'll write a diary entry, documenting how these 28 days go. If I survive, I burn the diary. If not, I pass the diary on to someone I trust. Hopefully, I'll find someone to trust within that time frame. Once that person has hold of the book, then I'll prepare myself to end it all.

28 days is all I need. No more, no less.

May my journey commence.

-the dead girl, Melanie.

____________________
Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter!
626 words
27/11/22