A/N: I know its probably not the best, but it’s the best I can do. Please R/R with any comments you may have, and please tell me anything you see that seems wrong. Thank you.

I stand by the door at school looking toward the lake. I know what’s happened; everyone does, but it’s so hard to believe. I can’t look…I can’t look.

She can’t be dead...dead…dead. If she’s dead, then what else is there in life? What if they’re lies…maybe she’s not dead. She can’t be dead…

I’ll go…I’ll go. Everyone else seems to be. Why not merge and be part of the crowd for once…it’s not like they actually care that she’s dead. They only care about themselves.

I feel my feet move, one step then the next, each moving me towards the lake. My heart and my head are telling me no, but I know I must go.

There’s a crowd standing near the lake. They’re all around her…I see her now. Her mouth is slightly open as if gasping for one last breath…one last chance for life. Her limp arms dangle to both sides of her and her neck hangs loosely with no support in the arms of a teacher.

Her face is so pale…so lifeless, why? Why? She can’t die. She can’t be dead. Dead…

The water is still dripping off her hair. It drips onto the earth below wetting it.

Everything is still.

Even the teachers are motionless.

I have to get to her…she might be alive still, but no. I know she’s not. I have to see anyways.

I feel my legs moving again, those that were frozen in their tracks behind the crowd. Nobody truly knew her, nobody, but me.

My peers move out of the way as I go through. I can feel the tears fall down my face as I look at hers.

I wonder if she would be crying, had it been the other way around. Her dampened face almost looks like it was wet from tears, but there is no emotion upon it.

Still. Dead still. Everyone is. I place my hand on her face, its cold. It’s cold. It’s cold. It’s cold.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Forever. Dead.

Nevermore will she breathe a breath again. Never again will she be able to see the world as herself. One perspective of the world is gone forever. Never again will she speak her thoughts or write. Never again will her hand grasp a pencil or a rock…or…or anything again. Never again.

Never will she step foot in water.

Water that she died in, and lived for.

But now she’s dead. Forever dead.

But, why did it have to be her? Why not someone else…anyone else…me? If she could live…live one day longer. Breathe one more breath, then maybe things would be different.

But here... I’m on my knees in front of her. Her dead body limply in the arms of a man I can’t even recognize anymore.

I glance away from her face…over to the left. I remember that tree now…I remember that day…that day so long ago…it was autumn. Eight years ago…

Roger looked back at his father’s car as it drove away. The wind made him slip his hands under his sweatshirt.

The grounds were empty, only the trees moved. There was another student dropped off that day, but Roger didn’t see her.

He started towards the door of the school, but was more engaged with looking at the grounds then rushing in. He was looking towards some trees by the lake when he saw her.

She was leaning against a tree, hugging her legs for warmth looking at the lake. Roger headed toward her now, away from the door.

“Hi,” Roger said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

She looked up from the ground to see him. “Hello,” she responded weakly, “Who are you?”

“I’m…I’m Roger I suppose.” He sat down next to her, “Who are you?”

“Myre.” It was just a word, but it was the first time Roger had ever heard someone’s name before.

“Myre,” she said again looking at him. Roger had short brown hair that was uncombed and bluish eyes that seemed almost confused.

“I’ve never met many persons.” Roger remarked, “Do lots of people have blue hair?”

“I’m not human…”

“You’re not?”

Myre shook her head. “Not the last time I checked.”

“What are you then?”

Myre was silent for a little while. “I…I don’t know. Never asked and Daddy never said.”

“Do you have a mom too?”

“No…she was taken away last year. Two men came into the house when Daddy was at work and they took her. I don’t know who they were or why they took her, but Mommy said not to worry. She said she’d be back…” A tear fell down her face.

“Didn’t she come back then?”

Myre shook her head; “Noo…Daddy said they took her to a special place where she could be happy. I asked if she wasn’t happy with us, but he left.”

“And you don’t know where she is?”

“No…for all I know, she could be dead.”

“Dead…my mom is dead…”

“I’m sorry, but you know for sure that she’s dead, right?”

Roger nodded, “Car crash when I was two…six years ago.”

“At least you know.”

I never thought it would have been her…why did she die this way…its like she should live. She should live because she’s different…

I look straight ahead now…my eyesight’s blurring, but I can see that the man is speaking, or trying to speak. I can’t hear him. I look blankly up at him and feel my eyes filling with tears again.

I turn around and look at the crowd for the first time, not one of them is smiling. Not one of them is glad.

I turn back to her and bite my lip. I feel a hand upon my shoulder and turn around. A lady’s behind me, one I can’t identify at all.

The lady looks at me…I hear her.

“Roger?” she says to me, “Roger, we’re bringing her in now. Would you like to come?”

I look at her…its not right…the guy holding her stands up. I look at him; I want him to stay…yet I won’t say a word.

I turn to see him walking towards the school, followed by all the others. Yet, I’m still here on the ground.

The ground seems to blur in front of my eyes…I wonder, should I too die? The waters still wet…it wouldn’t be that hard to go out the same way she did. But…no, I shouldn’t.

Everything’s so silent. Maybe this is death. Maybe this is being dead. But, no, that’s not right. I may wish it, but it wouldn’t be that easy to die.

The grounds are completely empty now…nobody is anywhere. I suppose I should probably go in, perhaps she’s not really dead. But no, I know that’s not possible now.

Weakly I stand up. I can barely stand, I feel so weak. So helpless. I head towards the school, glancing briefly at the tree we met at.

The school seems like a prison now. If I go in, will I come out alive? She won’t. She won’t…oh god why?

The handle on the door is cold as I pull it open showing the familiar hallways. I don’t see how these things can still exist…if she can’t.

I head to the left, I don’t really know where they would have taken her, but why not.

Footsteps come up behind me and I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you looking for her?” I hear.

I can’t recognize the voice, but the lady sounds older then a student. “Yes…” I say, turning around.

“Come this way Roger.” She says to me again.

I can’t seem to recognize her, but she leads me the way opposite of where I was heading. She leads me to the nurse’s office.

There are three beds in there, two of which are empty. Upon the third she lays, still motionless.

The crowd seemed to not have followed that far, as there are only a few teachers in the room.

“She’s really dead?” I ask, knowing the answer but not wanting too.

I see one of them nod. How can it be, it is practically an impossible thing. So…intangible. How could it happen…?

“Who found her?” I ask weakly, looking at the people still around.

“One of the students saw her.” One of the male teachers says.

I walk over to her. She’s on the bed farthest from the door.

I’m at her bed. I suppose its not hers, but the one she’s on. “Oh, god…why Myre?” I hear myself say.

I look down at her then close my eyes tightly. Why…dammit, why? I just don’t understand anymore.

I look at the people in the room. They seem to be silent…not saying anything, not moving. They’re faces are so emotionless…its like even they don’t care.

“You don’t care either!” I yell at them all, “None of you ever cared dammit! I thought that at least adults wouldn’t care about who’s popular and who’s not! I thought at least adults would care about someone for who they are, not how they appear!”

I run out of the room. I can’t take it…she’s dead, and they don’t care. I want to. I’m going to. I’m going to kill myself.

No, I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t, it won’t solve anything.

But why even bother living when living causes only bad? What is the point in breathing, if nobody cares anyways? People don’t care that she’s dead, so why would they even notice me being dead?

They would care…I mean, aren’t most people sad when a person dies?

But, I’m not even a person to them…They wouldn’t give a damn whether I was dead or whether I was alive, hell, they’d probably rejoice if I was dead. One less person wasting their precious oxygen…one less person to feed…one less person to live on this damned planet.

I think I should do it…I think I will do it, but not tonight.

I open the door to my room; I had run all the way here, unconscious of where I was going.

My roommate was already asleep…I glance at the clock on the wall…it reads 2:34. I hadn’t realized it was so late…how long did I sit there outside…how long did I stand in that hallway…it seemed as just a minute, and yet it was already past 2 in the morning?

I crawl into my bed and kick off my shoes. One last night to live. One last night to fall asleep. Tomorrow, I die. Good night room one final time, never again will I fall asleep on this bed.

I wake up. The clock says its already 11:30, that means most people have already left; they have parents that come at the regular time. They have parents that care.

So I’m going to do it today…this is the last time I’ll ever wake up. I won’t have to live this screwed up life anymore. Soon, it will be over.

Soon all those people who never cared about me should be happy, one less person they didn’t care about that doesn’t exist anymore.

What I don’t understand is my father…I swear, shouldn’t someone’s dad at least care about them…shouldn’t they?

I stop for a second…how will I kill myself? I never thought of that…there is no rope, so I can’t hang myself and no drugs I can overdose myself with. I could drown, but…no…Myre. A knife? A knife perhaps would work.

Where could I get a knife…I have one. That one I found on the ground last year. Where is it? Oh yes…I think I packed it already.

I get out of bed for the first time this morning and go over to my bag. In a pocket on the side there’s a knife.

I press it against the back of my arm, seeing if it will cut skin and with a little pressure the skin breaks. I squeeze the cut and little bubbles of blood come out of it.

I don’t know if this knife will be able to cut deep enough, but perhaps it might. I sit down on my bed and grasp the knife in my left hand. With not too much pressure I try to cut my wrist. It didn’t do anything, I push harder by a lot.

I see blood coming out of the cut, maybe that will be enough there. I put the knife into my right hand, and do the same thing to my left arm that I had just done with my right.

I stand up. I don’t see how this could kill anyone; I’m not losing that much blood. Where else are there blood veins…important ones? Lets see, the most important part of your body besides your heart is your brain. So blood is probably needed a lot in your brain…so, the neck then.

Where on the neck…does it matter? Maybe near where the pulse is…I find my pulse…its still beating all the same.

I move the knife to it, to that place where I feel it beating. I slash across the place, then again, and once more too.

I feel weaker…can’t stand anymore. Is this dying? I don’t know. I feel myself slip to my knees. Is this dying…?

Everything spins around me, I can’t seem to think anymore…but that’s how it’s better. This life…will be gone.

I breathe out once more, but don’t seem to breath in again. Everything has stopped moving…everything’s still. I glance to both sides…I’m still in my room. I’m lying on the floor in my room.

But, shouldn’t I be dead…I feel the way I did. Everything seems the way it always did.

I hear footsteps walking down the hallway. The door handle turns and I see you there. You’re standing in the doorway.

“Roger! Are you rea--” I hear you say.

I think you see me here, but I’m still alive, aren’t I. Why do you care. You stare at me, lying here on the floor.

I see you do so. Dad, I know you don’t care. Why do you even bother pretending that you would?

Oh god…was I wrong? You’re crying. I see a tear fall down you’re face. But that doesn’t mean you care.

You walk over to me.

You talk to me, on the ground “Oh my god…Roger…why did you do this? Don’t you know that people care about you enough that you should stay living in this world! Roger…I know you’re dead, but maybe you can hear…

“I know that this is probably my fault you did this, there might have been other things, but its still mostly my fault. I know it.”

I try to speak…I can’t…I really am dead…I need to tell you its not you’re fault! I need to tell you.

“Roger, I’m sorry for never being there. I’m sorry I even lived, for I probably made you’re life hell, but it wasn’t my fault I wasn’t there. And I wish I could have always been with you.

“I wish that we had known each other Roger. Don’t you remember when you were younger? When every morning I would come into your room and tell you good-bye, and you would wake up?

“Or don’t you remember the times when I got off early…and I would order pizza, those times that happened only a few times in a year? Those were the only times I ever got to see you.

“The only times I ever got to see you grow up. Why couldn’t you have seen that you’re life was important Roger? You should see that. You should know that. You should have lived!”

I try again to speak to him. Oh god…I don’t want to be dead, I don’t want to be dead. Why did I do that, why?

I shouldn’t have, but now I’m dead. I’m sorry dad! I think to myself strongly, maybe you’ll hear me. Maybe you’ll know!

You need to know it’s not your fault…it’s not your fault dad. Its all my fault, I shouldn’t have done this. You’re blaming yourself, when its not you’re fault. Its mine…its mine…I’m sorry.