Learning the truth about yourself can be a terrible thing. I would know. Smart, athletic, good looking, successful, popular. A loving family and friends. When you think you have those things and they all come crashing down, it shakes you to your very core.

I suppose it’s not that I thought I had those things. I did. At least, there was the appearance that I did. I got good grades. I played multiple sports. Girls looked my way. I won almost every competition I entered. Everyone at school knew my name. They all wanted to spend time with me. And back home, my parents and siblings gave me everything I asked for.

Some would call it living in a bubble. That’s an apt way to describe it. Because a bubble is so fragile. And when it bursts, there’s no going back.

“Just a little jump…” I whispered.

I was standing on the balcony of my family’s apartment, staring down at the street many stories below. I’ve heard many people have a small part of them that wants to jump when they look down from a high place. Is that true? Perhaps it was just my mood, but I felt the tiniest of urges to swing my legs over the ledge and let gravity do its work. I didn’t though. I wouldn’t.

There was a reason for the temptation, of course. And for the gloomy mood that had me absentmindedly staring out at the world like this. As I watched the cars drive by below, I could hear the sirens continuously blaring through my mind.

Weeee woooo weeee woooo!

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has heard a siren before and thought, please don’t be coming my way, or, please don’t be heading towards someone I love.

Even when I knew it was coming our way, I still had that thought. I still wished. Still prayed. Don’t break our family. Don’t ruin our life.

We deserved it, I suppose. You see, there was a reason I had all those great things I mentioned before. We were rich. My father was rich. Rich enough to be average looking himself, but have a beautiful wife. And rich enough to afford good schools for his kids. Rich enough to get them nice clothes and ensure they were well fed and had good hygiene. Rich enough to give them training tools and coaches.

Smart? Check. Athletic? Check. Good looking? Check. And what comes with those things? Success. Popularity. Friends. Check. Check. Check.

My way of life was bought and paid for by my father. I think I knew it somewhere deep down. Yes, I lived in a bubble. I thought I was genuinely accomplishing all those things. Part of me did try to give back, though.

I tried to be a good guy. I tried to help people. If a kid in my class couldn’t solve a math problem, I’d help them. If someone dropped a book, I’d pick it up. If someone couldn’t get a ride home, I’d get them one.

I think, looking back, that some people took that the wrong way. Some people saw me as flaunting my abilities or wealth. Some people saw me as trying to “slum it”. And, I think, some people were upset that I didn’t truly help them at all.

Well, they wouldn’t have to worry anymore I suppose. There wasn’t much I could do at this point. I couldn’t help anyone now, even if I knew the right way. I didn’t have a penny to my name now. I’d be out of this apartment soon enough. I’d be going to a new school in all likelihood, if school was even an option. My mother and sister would probably be taken away soon enough, too.

You see, my dad’s wealth was all a sham. He ran various financial schemes for years, ripping off a wide range of people from high end businessmen, to lowly pensioners. I had two older brothers as well, and when they became adults, he’d apparently gotten them involved. My mother had almost surely been involved as well, and my sister was old enough that she’d probably done some shady business herself.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It had all started to come down this morning. News trucks had been spotted around our building and my father received some calls tipping him off that something had been discovered. To his credit, he didn’t flee. Was it okay to give him credit for that? Perhaps he just thought his lawyers were going to get him out of it.

I received some messages myself. One of my friends sent me about half a dozen angry messages, informing me of what a piece of shit I was. His family had invested with my father. Their accounts had been discovered empty.

Another of my friends messaged me as well. She was less hostile, but clearly very hurt. Her mother had discovered her accounts cleared as well. She expressed hope it was just a mistake, but it was clear enough that it wasn’t. It was clear what she thought of me, too.

If he doesn’t give the money back, I don’t know what we’ll do, her last message read. Honestly, it broke my heart.

I, of course, being the only one to not know about all this, confronted my father. He brushed it off. My brothers joined him. My mother told me to respect them and the work they did for all of us.

“Your father does so much for you! Watch your mouth!” She’d never said things like that before. The tension was clearly getting to her.

Then the sirens began blaring.

The police came in and immediately arrested my father and my brothers. They interviewed my mother, my sister and myself. They searched the place thoroughly, taking a variety of documents and almost every electronic device. When they left, my mother left with them. My sister simply took off somewhere, but I didn’t know where.

I stayed and wallowed in self pity for the life I’d lost and the illusion that had faded with it.

Knock knock.

I turned around in surprise. The door wasn’t locked, but I supposed the police would’ve walked right in if they wanted to. Some were still hanging around. They were likely still suspicious of me.

“It’s open,” I called out.

My eyes widened as the friends who had messaged me earlier entered. I turned away from the railing of the balcony and poked my head inside. Given what they’d said, especially the one, I hadn’t expected this.

“We wanted to see if it…was true.” That was the friend who had sent the messages about me being a piece of shit. It was a little jarring having him seeking out confirmation after that, but I guess I could understand.

“Looks like it is…” my other friend said, her eyes darting around and seeing the evidence of the police tearing the place apart.

“I didn’t know…” I said quietly, my head bowing slightly in shame. How was I supposed to respond to this situation? My family seemed to have destroyed both of theirs.

“Bullshit,” my much angrier friend said, his feelings from earlier bubbling up to the surface. He thrust his hand in his pocket, clasping it around something.

“I didn’t. Really.” I understand that my words meant very little at this point, but what was I going to do to make the situation any better? I’d only just realized how completely and utterly pathetic I was.

“Your whole family was involved,” said the other friend. “You’re saying you were the only one that didn’t know?” The disbelief was evident in her eyes.

“I didn’t.” Obviously they didn’t believe me. They never would. But still, what happened next was a surprise.

My friend that was more outwardly hostile suddenly pulled a knife from his pocket and ran forward, shoving me back out onto the balcony. The railing stopped our momentum, but I still felt dangerously close to falling over.

“What are you doing?! Stop!” came the voice of my other friend. I guess she didn’t know this would happen either.

This was all happening so suddenly, and I was a little out of sorts from the day’s events. Everything started blurring together. There was a struggle with the two of them, and I heard a yelp suggesting that my one friend’s attempt to stop the attack had resulted in her getting hurt.

I wasn’t going to find out how severe it was, though, because suddenly I felt a piercing pain in my chest and looked down to see the knife inside my stomach. It must have hit something important because I felt weaker and my brain was foggier almost immediately. I still had enough strength in me to reach out and grab onto whatever I could. I grabbed at my attacker’s collar just as he was giving me a mighty shove, sending me off the balcony.

Whether I was killed by the fall, or the wound in my gut, I would never know. My vision faded as I rushed towards the ground. My last thought was simply that I deserved this. My life, and all I’d thought about it, was simply fantasy. I only wished I’d seen it earlier.

And then I died.