[COMPLETED] A story between a girl and a boy who talk on the phone together. The girl thinks the guy is someone else, but the guy knows who the girl is. He has a crush on her, and he is willing to act as the guy she has a crush on, because he's desp...
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c h a p t e r 7 Am I stupid?
Am I doing this for attention?
I'm not sure about the whole stupid thing. But I'm not doing this for attention, because if that was the case I wouldn't have jumped. I know, I know, you think I jumped because of Danny Sanderson. But he isn't the main reason. He is a good contributor to the reason, but he's really just the straw that broke the camel's back.
The water engulfs me once I hit it. The water is swallowing me, and I'm going deeper and deeper below.
What am I thinking?
I don't think.
I don't think—because when a person attempts suicide, a decision is made.
And my decision was made. It really was. I thought I was going to die. When I had looked down at Hanson Lake, and held my sides trying to think of what else I could effing live for, I thought I would be no more once I jumped.
The police had come as soon as I hit the water. Apparently, someone had been walking their dog late that night around lets say 9:30-ish and saw a young lady in a pink formal gown jump into Hanson Lake, and they dialed 9-1-1.
I don't remember much after my attempt of out-swimming the police in my long gown fails. I go unconscious perhaps because of the exhaustion. But I do remember the dream I have while unconscious.
It's not a clear dream, really. It's kind of blurry, and I swear there'd be no damn audio if the dream had been a movie.
The atmosphere is kinda grey, but there's flowers all around. I don't know what kind of flowers because I can't take in their detail or color, because there isn't any.
Then I see him. The boy I rejected.
Unlike what I expected, he isn't frowning at me, or he doesn't wear a face expression of disgust. But still, I hide my face with my hands out of absolute shame.
I'm dealing with Karma.
This is Karma.
The look he gives me is one of curiosity, but he gives me a smile that is reassuring.
A smile that tells me everything is going to be okay.
But how can I believe that, when I'm not even sure of what I believe?
—
"I just want to disappear."
"You don't mean that."
"I do. That's why I jumped."
"But, why would you want to end your life over some guy, who doesn't give a crap about you?"
"Because he lead me on. We would talk on the phone every night..."
"Seriously? Like, for real?"
"Yeah. And I shared to him some really personal things...and I just thought we had this connection."
"He was just using you. And maybe you should give that guy another chance. The one who asked you out awhile ago."
This was my conscience I was arguing with.
We're having a really important conversation. Yet, she's telling me that I'm completely dumb for attempting suicide; she finds it very funny actually.
My conscience is the better looking and more mature version of me; she knows exactly who she is. And she isn't the one who was crying, screaming, or soaking wet just awhile ago. She looks at me, and her look is of annoyance and sheer disappointment.
I'm laying in a hospital bed, and I don't have the energy to really do anything, but argue with my conscience.
"But he hates me," I mutter hopelessly. "Don't be dumb."
"I'm your conscience. How can I be as stupid as you?"
Ouch.
She can be a bitch when she wants too, and I think she seriously knows this. Yet, she smiles and crosses her arms defiantly, regardless of the glare I give her.
