TW: Suicide
Kira does not display healthy mental behaviors in this chapter. If you're in America and are currently experiencing suicidal thoughts/motivations, call The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK or 988. If located in another country, follow the appropriate steps to get help.
You have value.
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Walking. That's something I can do. One foot in front of the other, don't make eye contact. Ignore the constricting feeling in my chest that just keeps getting tighter, wait, fuck, am I supposed to ignore it or focus on it? Okay, focus on the feeling, deep brea-
You have to go to class tomorrow and see them and they'll see you and they'll be THINKING about it and-
No, no, no, no, FUCK, okay do NOT focus on the feeling. Just... walk. Focus on the rain. You like the rain.
I risk a glance up from my feet. I've managed to walk off of campus without meeting anyone - a small mercy. The rain is pouring, the sound of water hitting the cobblestones around me creating a soothing cacophony. I tilt my head back up and close my eyes, but I can't maintain that pose for long without inadvertently trying to drown myself. I lower my head and my black hair immediately plasters itself back to my clammy skin. At some point on my walk I began shivering, which at least interfered with the sobbing. I attempt to shrug my cardigan closer around me, but it became sodden pretty much the instant I stepped out of my dorm. It's probably lowering my body temperature more than it's helping. I should take it off.
I don't.
I should go back to campus, back to my dorm.
I don't.
Instead, I finally look around at my surroundings. Ah. I stare numbly at the bridge. I was just trying to get some air, but it looks like my feet have more courage than the rest of me. It feels like a black hole, like a powerful force is drawing my eyes towards the side of the bridge. I know what's down there. It's a pretty big drop till the water. On a different day, I'd call it a nice view. Today, though... today the pull is inescapable. I take one haltering step towards the edge, then another, then all of a sudden I'm there, I'm at the edge and I can no longer pretend that I have an innocent reason for this because I'm at the railing and now that I'm here I have to look over it and-
I sit down. It's god knows when after midnight, I'm shivering out here looking like a drowned cat in the dark and I'm huddled against the only thing that is separating me from the 3 second fall to the waters surging below.
And yet, I'd rather be here than back inside. What does that say about me? That I messed up so badly that this is preferable to-
If you go back you'll have to see them. And you'll see Madeline, and her perfect overachieving taunting little smile. You'll see Pete, and he's a smug asshole and you knew this and you still-
"AAAAAGH!" I scream, except it comes out more strangled because I can't stop fucking crying and I'm choking on my own tears. I'm about to start banging my hands against my head to make myself stop thinking when I remember - why didn't I remember sooner - and reach into my pocket. I struggle for a bit because everything is weighed down with all the water, but my fingers finally brush against cold metal.
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I grab my grandfather's pocket watch and pull it out. He made it himself when he was younger, so it's one of those old kinds that have a front that clasps shut. My fingers are starting to stiffen up so I flounder with the latch for a few seconds before I'm able to get it open. My eyes zero in on the second hand with all the urgency of a dying man grabbing onto a lifeline. Focus on the watch, Kira. Nothing else matters.
Tick.
You stupid fucking idiot
Tick.
you're so desperate for affection
Tick.
you fell over the first person to even give you a scrap
Tick.
you should have known that he was lying
Tick.
how could anyone ever like someone as pathetic as you
Tick.
Michael probably thinks you're disgusting
Tick.
because he knows
Tick.
they all know.
*CRACK*
The noise of the rain recedes from my awareness. My thoughts finally stop running circles. The only thing I can hear now is the sound of the watch cracking resounding off the walls of my mind. I stare at where I slammed it into the bridge. "Fuck," I whisper, softly. I don't want to overpower the sound, to have it fade it out. Maybe if I don't make any loud noises then I can hide from the inevitability of having to face what I just did.
I wait, maybe for an eternity.
Eventually, I turn the watch over. The glass surface of it has shattered and now litters the cobblestone beneath me. The rain pours into the open face of the clock, water running through all the gears. Is that bad for it? I'm not sure. I cradle the watch in my hands and stare at it. My mind, traitor that it is, superimposes the memory of Grandpa handing me it, his old hands weak and far colder than they had been the day before.
I stand up, still cradling the watch. I turn around and look over the railing. It doesn't look so bad now, I note dully. The black hole isn't in effect either. I feel light, almost airy as I climb over the railing, as if I'll fly away as soon as I step off.
If I never return to the campus, then I'll never have to see the way they look at me. I'll never have to see the judgement in their eyes, or the pity, or deal with the catcalling or... Michael. It could all stop... here. I look down, into the abyss. Maybe she'll even feel bad. Maybe they'll all feel bad, or maybe it'll be like that case where the people who cyberbullied that girl until she killed herself got arrested.
I grip the watch tightly in my hands. The broken edges of the glass cut into my palms, but they're mostly numb and it doesn't really matter at this point, does it?
"I'm sorry, Grandpa." I tried. I really did. I was only able to make it 4 years without him. I wonder if he'd be proud of me... probably not.
I turn around and look up. In the movies, they always go face first, but this way, my view will be of the pitch black rain clouds. My eyelids flutter at their rage, but I ignore it, instead imprinting them in my mind as the last thing I'll see.
I always did like the rain.
I close my eyes. With an ease that feels like letting go of a weight I've been holding for years, I step backwards.
3
The feeling of the ground dropping out from underneath me rises up inside me. The panic hits, my eyes pop open and all of a sudden the mental fog lifts. Some lizard brain instinct honed through centuries of evolution causes me to flail my arms out, trying to grab onto something, anything to stop the fall, but I'm not falling out of a tree, I jumped off a fucking bridge and I'm in free fall and I'm going to die- Holy shit, I'm going to die.
2
I don't want to die. I scream, but the wind whipping past me robs my voice from me. The cops are a joke, and I was lying to myself when I thought Madeline or Pete or any of those fuckers would feel bad, they're going to fucking laugh when they find out and I'll be dead. My windmilling arms cause me to start spinning around in midair. I can no longer tell what is up and and what is down, what is black water and what is green sky-
1
I should have at least killed that bitch first god fucking damn
*DING*