Jonathan Bugabee Jazz was no ordinary boy; an outcast if you will. He liked to wear dark clothing and had blonde hair that often fell over his eyes. He spent most of his time alone and was often very quiet. People criticized him for being different, and the more he kept to himself the more people tried to get a reaction out of him. They teased him constantly, anything they could think of; they called him emo, faggot, and made fun of his incredibly odd name. He hated his peers with a fiery passion. He wished they wouldn’t judge him so harshly. He was angry because he didn’t fit in and people didn’t accept him, which made him want to be even more indifferent. He never really noticed Corinne watching him, she was quiet and subtle, and she often noticed how unhappy Jonathan seemed. She would watch him doodle in his note books during social studies, and wonder what was going through his head. Once in a while he would catch her looking in his direction, but he thought nothing of it. He figured she was looking at him with harsh eyes, as everyone else did. Corrine was slender, pale, and overall beautiful. She liked reading and writing, and her small framed glasses perched perfectly on her small pointed nose. She had recently begun reading an incredible novel about a misunderstood boy who reminded her of Jonathan. She wished ever so much she could share it with him, maybe it would help. Books had always made her feel special, as if every single one was written just for her. One cloudy afternoon as Corinne was walking home she noticed Jonathan running towards his house, he had blood gushing out of his nose and he seemed to be crying. She wanted to chase after him, make his pain go away and help anyway she could. Jonathan trashed his room wearing a t-shirt covered in dry blood. He was furious and frustrated because he was too small to defend himself. A couple of older boys cornered him after school and pushed him around. He hated himself at that moment, disgusted himself even more than his peers did. He finally collapsed in his room and began to sob, hopeless. There was nothing he could do, he hated everyone around him including himself, which made him hate himself that much more because was all he really had. He couldn’t run away, he would never survive on his own. No one understood him; he was completely and utterly alone in the world. For hours he lay, a crumpled heap on his cold wooden floor. A million things raced through his mind, and after hours of thought and tears he finally came to a solution. The only option he had was to take his own life. He knew it was selfish and it damn near killed him to think about abandoning his mother that way, but she didn’t need him. Her life would go on, and no one else in the world would care. He didn’t know a lot about suicide, despite his ever ongoing depression and occasional suicidal thoughts. He decided it had to be something he couldn’t change your mind on. No pills because he could change his mind and stick his fingers down his throat. He also didn’t want to do it in the house; he refused to let his poor mother be the one to find him. He knew of a beautiful place, not far from where he lived where he could jump. The view was incredible and he would die the way he was meant to die, alone and among nature where no one ever judged him. He took a note pad and pen, threw it into his backpack, and left immediately. It took him a mere fifteen minutes to walk up the trail past the houses and barking dogs. He tried not to think about it, because he knew he could back out at any moment. He kept his mind clear and focused on the rhythm of his footsteps. When he finally reached the top, he sat only long enough to write a note on his sticky note pad. He kept it short and sweet, “Fuck You All.” Then he put it in his bag and stepped toward the edge. Suddenly he was nervous, only a moment before he had been filled with anger and had his heart set on ending it. Now he was just another scared teenager begging life to stop throwing curve balls. A rustle behind him made him jump slightly and he craned his head only to find a chipmunk gnawing on a small seed about four feet away from him. Was it really something so simple that could change his mind about ending his life, and destroying his potentially incredible future? Of course not he thought to himself. He turned his head back towards the seemingly endless fall in front of him. Here it was his inevitable death. This was his last hope for peace and last moment of fresh air. He took a deep breath and lifted his left foot. When suddenly, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Something he never would have noticed before the chipmunk startled him. The small creature threw his imbalanced mind in the other direction, distracting him from what he had been focusing so hard on. He looked over at his backpack to see something blue, barely visible in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t believe that his curiosity was overcoming his unhappiness at a critical moment like this. But he couldn’t stand it, he had to look. He took two steps toward his bad only to find a novel with a deep blue hard cover. There was no picture but a simple dented white title that read Screaming in Silence. He opened the cover to find a piece of paper, neatly folded to look like a flower. He carefully unfolded it; inside it said “Hope this book cheers you up! And lets you know that you aren’t really alone. Sincerely, a doodle fan.” He sat there staring for what seemed like hours. He knew it had to be Corinne, she was the only one that sat next to him in the back, the only one who’s gotten close enough to see his art. Jonathan Bugabee Jazz did not commit suicide that night. Instead he went home and spent the night reading. He had never read anything like this book before, he never really read much at all. He hated novel studies in school because the novels were always awful and dull. He had never known an adventure like this before and he never knew there were other people who had thoughts just like his own. He read all through the night, and skipped school the next day. When he was finally finished he cleaned his room, and was hungry for another book. He swallowed his fears and spent the evening drawing Corrine, cartoon-style holding a book and a flower. The next day he left it in a holiday paper bag, hanging off her locker with a note asking her to recommend another book. After that Jonathan spent his evening reading, and his days with Corrine. They innocently held hands, and went on long nature walks. He never told her about the day he almost took his own life. When she asked about his nose bleed, he shrugged it off. He had never known time to feel so precious, so sweet, and he never told her that a chipmunk possibly saved his life because in the end, he knew it wasn’t a small animal, or a rustle that kept him alive, it was Corrine.
Word Count 1,287
Loser. >.<
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