Dear people,

Dear people,

I want to tell you a story. It’s a story about a little girl and the people around her.

Once upon a time there was this girl who was packing her back to go to Slovenia. She didn’t go alone, no; she went with a lot of other people from her school. The girl didn’t want to go, because she didn’t like the people and she’d miss her parents. The teachers told her she couldn’t graduate if she didn’t go, so eventually she did go.

They went by bus. It was a very long trip. Halfway, in Switzerland, the teachers decided that they should stop for an hour, to have a break. The girl went outside with her two and only friends to visit the shop nearby. They hadn’t even entered the shop or she’d lost them already. Too lazy to search for them, she thought a short walk would do her good. On the other side of the field she saw her classmates: they were staring and gossiping. Oh well, the little girl thought, and she continued her walk towards the woods. Before she could enter the woods, she had to cross a train track. Happily she jumped over it, entered the woods and had a good, calming walk. There were squirrels, birds –she loved those- and a lot of odd bugs she never saw before.

Barely half an hour had passed when it was time to head back. She jumped across the tracks again and walked onto the field to go to the bus where her friends should be right now. Halfway the field there was a large table on which all her classmates were sitting. Just pass them and walk on, she thought by herself. Trying so hard to fake confident steps, she walked passed them, but one of them stopped her.

“We saw you pass the train tracks!” He screamed, pulling her a bit.

She spoke silence; she did not know what to answer on that.

“Did your suicide fail?!” One of the others yelled.

“Did you miss the train?!” The first said.

“What a pity, now we’re still here with you!” Some others started to scream now. The girl looked down, trying really hard not try cry.

“Bummer, eh?” She whispered. She turned around and ran away to the toilets. She couldn’t help it: the tears rolled down her face. This was one of the sickest jokes she’d ever heard. It was too close to her. No one probably knew her family story. No one knew they couldn’t make such a joke to her. The two years she just went through had been very rough for her.

By accident the girl had found out about her parent’s past. They’d been honest with her after that. It shocked her. Her dad was doing great, though. He really tried to make life worth living for everyone. She was still angry with her mum. Mum had abandoned her and her dad for almost two years now: she had more fun living in other random families. She wasn’t home often. It was only the months after she almost killed herself, almost was killed by a robber and the large fight that she ‘officially’ returned to Dad and the little girl. Mum and the girl had a really long fight after that: the girl refused to speak for exactly two months. Mum dragged her outside after that. They went for dinner and they went shopping. The girl and Mum talked for hours until they agreed that this couldn’t go on anymore. Then Mum bought the little girl a pretty ring she still wears to the day of today. It’s a sign everything will turn out fine, eventually.

The little girl and Mum still didn’t have a good relationship, though. Mum missed too much of the little girl’s life to have so, but now they tried to build a new relationship.

These events gave the little girl a fear of dying. Her mum had almost died thrice. Her dad almost once. Sometimes it was their fault, sometimes others, but death was always just a millimetre away.

Since those days the girl developed a horrible habit. Almost every night, when she was fast asleep, she scratched her arms and neck till they bled. Her parents tried everything to stop it, but every morning the girl woke up again with scars and red sheets. When she was sad the scars were so bad she wore a scarf to school to hide them. Eventually Mum bought the girl white gloves she had to wear when she slept, so she couldn’t scratch herself. It was awful sleeping with them, but it helped.

The little girl was still running towards the other side of the field, trying to put away all those memories. She locked herself in one of the toilets of the shop nearby. There she cried for several minutes.

“People who do not have the will to live, should not be allowed to have a life,” she whispered to herself, over and over again. When she was done, she flushed away the tissues in the toilet, along with all her emotions.

I wish I dared to send this letter to you, dear people,

Dearest greetings,

Jack.