A/N: This story is based on the Student Creed my school principal wrote. I had detention the other day and had to wirte the damn thing fifty times. Around the sixth time, I was hit by inspiration, and wrote this. Please R/R. Thanks. ^_^
Oh, and one more thing. Because Notepad sucks and doesn't support italiacs *kicks computer* I had to type the parts of the student creed that are intertwined with the story in all caps, so no one would get confused.



STUDENT CREED


I'm sitting in my window seat in the corner of my bedroom. Holding a book to my face to hide that fact that I'm crying. Sometimes my long hair isn't enough protection for me. I sat there, waiting for my mother to come in. It's Friday. On Fridays my mom takes my sister Monica and I grocery shopping with her. My father used to come with us, but that was before the divorce.
Thinking of that nightmare only makes my tears flow more freely. I had to be strong and take care of Monica through it all. At most times I thought I would drop dead. But I stayed strong, for Monica's sake. Now I'm finished being strong.

I AM POLITE AND COURTEOUS.

I hear my mother's footsteps creaking on the stairs. I quickly wipe my tears on the sleeve of my sweater and bury my face deeper into my book. I hope she doesn't notice my tear-streaked face.

"Michelle, Are you up here?"

"Yeah, mom. I'm in my room."

I try to mask the depressed tone in my voice. I'm praying inside my head that she notices nothing, that she thinks everything is fine. 'Oh, please God, make her think everything is fine...'

"Come on honey, you know what day it is. Monica's already in the car, waiting."

She pokes her head inside my room. She's smiling. A tremor of guilt sweeps through me. I was going to deny my mother her beautiful smile.

'You can't give up now', I say to myself. 'Just tell her, like you planned.'

"Hey mom, I'm going to stay here today. I've got tons of homework, plus I really want to finish this book by tonight."

I watch her face closely. Will her mood suddenly change? Has she figured out what is going on? No.she hasn't. She's still smiling.

"My little bookworm. Alright, you can stay here, but only this one time." She turns and walks down the stairs. I hold my breath until I hear her pull out of the driveway. I exhale. I've done it. Now for the hard part...

I AM RESPECTFUL.
I AM RESPONSIBLE.

Damn student creed. It's haunting me. I keep repeating the idiotic little speech in my head, over and over. If it had never existed, I might not even be doing this. If I hadn't been given detention for nothing, if I hadn't been ignored, if I hadn't been made fun of, if I hadn't had to write that God damned creed fifty times...

'Snap out of it!' I tell myself. I'm letting my mind wander. I have to keep focused at the matter at hand. I can't use up the precious time I have obsessing over "ifs".

I AM SAFE.
I AM PREPARED.

I planned it one week ago. I am ready. I have everything perfectly prepared. There won't be any blood. I don't want Monica to have to see blood. I also don't want anyone to be in danger. People can slip and fall in a puddle of blood.
I also found everything I had needed. Even though my dad is gone, I can still find his tools and such lying around the house. I was lucky I found a good, strong piece of rope. I was also lucky that I had been in Girl Scouts' as a child. Who knew that a slip-knot would ever come in handy?
Everything needed was waiting in the basement for me. Waiting for me to walk down those stairs and end it all.

WE ARE HER TO LEARN; THEREFORE I WILL:
DO NOTHING TO KEEP THE TEACHING FROM TEACHING

I have forgotten something. I need a note. A reason for my family. Well, it can't be that hard. I am the best writer in my class. I've always been the best of everything. Maybe that's another reason for this.
I walk down to our kitchen. Open a few drawers until I come across a pen and a piece of paper. I sit at my kitchen table and I begin to write.

To whom it may concern:

No, that's no good. My mother would take it too personally. I cross it out.

Dear Family:

No, that can't be it either. This doesn't concern my family in the least. Again, I cross out the last sentence.

To the living:

Hmm..that will have to do. If my mother comes back before I can finish, I may never have the courage to do this again.

To the living:

Please don't cry for me. I'm happier where I am now. I just need to say a few things before I go. First, to my family. I love you mom. Please don't be sad. This isn't your fault. I'm doing this on my own will. Please tell dad that I love him, and will you give Monica my china doll? I know she loves it.
Tell Kiki and Robbie that they're the best friends I've ever had. Tell them I'll miss them. Tell them I love them.

I have to stop there. I can't write anymore. I'm already crying. I sign my name at the end. The piece of paper is clutched in my hand as I walk down to the basement. I count every step as I go.

One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five...
Six...
Seven...
Eight...
Nine...

Only nine steps. Our basement doesn't go down very far into the ground. I'm just glad that it was built with rafters. It makes what I have to do so much easier.

I WILL COOPERATE WITH ALL SCHOOL PEOPLE,
RESPECT MYSELF, OTHERS, AND THE ENVIROMENT.

I'm so close, and still the chant plays in my head. It makes me think that I can still stop, that I can leave this basement and never come back. I can get help from the school counselor, or my mother, or my teacher. I still have so much to live for.

'NO!' I scream at myself. 'NO! You can't, you're too close. They won't be able to help you anyways. They don't know what you're going through. They've never known, and they never will.'

I listen to the second voice. I grab the ready noose from its hiding place. My suicide note is still in my hand. I take some duct tape from an old desk in the corner of the basement, and secure the note to my shirt.

BY ACTING THIS WAY, I AM CAPABLE, CONNECTING, AND CONTRIBUTING.

I drag the chair from the old desk over to a low rafter. I climb up on that old thing, and I fear that I might fall before I finish. I tightly secure the end of rope to the rafter. The other end, a neat loop, fits easily over my head.

All of a sudden, I'm not sure if I can go through with this. I don't want to die, I can still stop this. I can still live out my life.

IF IT IS TO BE, IT IS UP TO ME.

I kick the chair out from beneath me, and the universe goes dark.

I CAN DO IT.