These Last Words | Short Story

"Words cut deeper than knives."

A dark, serious fictional short story written and created by me in 2012 - STEPHEX.

~X~

Disclaimer: This fictional piece was inspired by events that sadly happen to students (victims) in high school and those who suffer from depression in general.

If you are going through a similar scenario, don't go through depression alone. There is no shame in reaching out, admitting you're not okay and asking for help, even when you feel like no one will listen to you, they will and they should. Things will get better, it's only a matter of time. 

And if you know someone who is going through a dark time, please reach out to them and try your best to understand them, it'll mean more than you think and you may just save their life. x

~♥~

If someone asked me where I see myself in five years, I wouldn’t answer them because I don’t see myself in the future, only now, in these present moments. Being treated as an equal never occurred for me at this place—my nightmare. No. I am an outcast and I always have been, but not for much longer.

       The girls' toilets is a local hangout for me, the only place where I feel safe. I’m isolated, I’m at peace. Everywhere I look is nothing except navy blue walls surrounding me. They never judged me, they protected me. The walls are silent, they do not speak and they don’t call me horrible names. I am equal.

       The room is silent and there is no one here. The only sound to be heard are my soft sobs that echo through this room. Why doesn’t anyone care?

   

       "You’re a loser! You’re ugly and everyone hates you!" their voices replay inside my mind. "Why don’t you ever speak? Are you depressed? Why don’t you go and kill yourself if you’re so depressed. No one will miss you."   

       My face is wet from the tears that are gushing down my face. I can’t stop. This is high school. This is my nightmare—my life.

       "You’ve missed so many classes, Emily. You can’t keep missing them. If you do, I’m going to fail you."

        If only my teachers knew the truth. The thing is, some do, but they never helped.

        I am a one man army, fighting against my classroom of hate and disrespect. I’m not ‘normal’, not to them. I’m not ‘popular’. Why don’t I fit in? Is there something wrong with me? I found that every time I did speak, nobody listened. That’s the reason why I kept my mouth shut. Nobody cared.

       The smirks of those who tease and bully me play inside my mind, followed by the names they call me. I feel small. I feel weak. I am a nobody, I am just a joke. No one knows about my haunted past, only those who share my blood. If they knew, would they even care? Would they stop bullying me because of what else I’ve been through? No. My voice doesn’t matter.

   

      There were times when I thought about escaping from this, from the world—my world. But they were only thoughts...until now. In a few moments, I will end my life, right here, right after my last words. I will take my school tie, wrap it around the metal on top of the door and hang myself. Will they care once they see me? If they were here right now, would they have even tried to stop me?

   

       I can’t take this anymore. I’m sick of being trapped inside my own mind—my own prison. Every hurtful word eats away at my brain and the voices, their voices, won't stop. I will never be the same. As I sit here, writing, my heart races at the thought of what people will say about my absence from class and the new things they will say about me. But right now, I don’t care. I’m numb, I’m damaged. I’m done.

   

       All I can think about right now is what will happen in the future. Will my death be in vain? I will never know. But one day they will realise and be as damaged as I am. One day they will feel guilt when they see and remember my soulless corpse hanging from the place I felt safe at. One day they will have wished they never bullied me. One day.

   

       But will they?