I slammed the car door shut, and faced the school.

"Have a good день sweetie," Mom said, somewhat hopefully from the drivers seat. Just the words made me want to ball up and cry. She drove away, leaving me in the dust. I would not survive this day.

Not that I deserve to.

I clutched my Книги to my chest, and tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ground. But I still felt their eyes on me.

"Bitch," they muttered.

"She deserves to die," others said. Didn't they know I want to? Didn't they know how much strength it took to keep breathing? And when I did, it was the everlasting pain that nearly brought me to my death. But I could only hope.

But they didn't know this. They just knew it was my fault. And it was. It was all my fault for what had happened.

And I'd live with this guilt till I die.


Please let me know if I should continue this; I don't know if I should.