Young Writers Society

I haven't written a short story in about 10 months at least. This is so rusty, and probably not worth reading - but I would love some feedback.

I was so out of breath, my chest heaving, my lungs about to burst. I wish they had, then it would have been over a lot quicker I suppose. It had taken me twenty seven minutes to get to the top of the building, climbing up the emergency exit ladder was harder than expected, but not hard enough. Not so hard that I slipped and fell, not so hard that exhaustion led me to pass out and smash to the concrete below. It was just hard enough to test me, test me to the point of which I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it anymore. But the pain, the blisters on my hands, the sharp pains running through my head, they reminded me of what I was going through and how it would soon be alright again.

I'm sitting here now, my feet dangling over the edge. I didn't think I'd be scared, I'm an adreneline junkie and height never scared me, falling never scared me either, especially not now. But I was scared, so very scared and just the feeling of fear scared me even more because it was a feeling that I rarely ever felt.

My phone beeps. I flip open my black motorola. 1 new message.

Bestie

I love you. Don't do this. Don't think we don't know where you are because we do.

I scan over the words and then flip the phone down again. I hold it over the edge for a few seconds, then let it slip through my fingers and fall down, down past stories and stories until it hits the pavement. I can't even hear it hit the ground.That will be me in a few minutes.I smile. All the pain will be over soon, the words, the hatred, the lies and the pity.

It's not as if anyone would care or even could care. After all, who could care about someone as pathetic as me? Failing in school, fat, ugly, frigid, you name it. There was only ever one thing that kept me going until now. People used to say that I had nice eyes, kind eyes,honesteyes. And I had that. I had nice eyes. Thinking about it now, I finally realise why my eyes were my best feature - because they were the only part of my body that was real, that wasn't scarred, gouged at, dyed, straightened, flattened or squished into shape. And they were the one thing that always smiled. Even when my mouth didn't, my eyes were still shining, smiling, lit up. But of course that was in public. No one really knew what I was going through, the crying, the depression, the cutting, the attempted overdoses. I didn'twantpeople to know, they'd just call me a pathetic attention seeker - which effectively is what I was. All it was was a cry for attention, and no one gave it to me; not my parents, teachers, siblings nor friends. Even my enemies had become dismissive of me because I learnt how to ignore their taunting and it became boring then them.

But it would soon be over. I can hear sirens, I assume someone has been me and has called the cops. It won't help, they're not taking me down from here. There's only one way that I'm coming down and that's my way. I'm jumping off this building, dying like a fallen angel, crushed and smashed on the concrete pavement. I used to have wings, when I was little. My wings have been broken for a long time now, and if wings are meant for flying, broken wings are meant for falling. My time has come to fall.

Cars have started swarming the area, ambulances too. They must be mad, ambulances. Really? I'm having a good giggle to myself right now, as if I'll survive from a fall like that. Survive. It's an odd word... it's starting to scare me, I hadn't even considered the possibility that I might not die today. I lean over the edge and peer down at the tiny faces below, I can see a camera crew, with huge lights. How dare they.How bloody dare they.I don't want my death to be on camera, I don't want it to be a fuss. If I wanted it to be one huge attention seeking bullshit suicide then I would have gone to a police station and shot myself.

People are gathering, watching, waiting. I find it funny that they want to watch my death, is this so they can update their facebook status' 'ommggg sum gal just jumped off dat tall building zommgg lol' or so they can tell people 'oh yeah, I was there when that stupid kid jumped'? I hope that there are some people like me. People who can find comfort in the fact that I died today, teenagers like me who can see the crowd, feel the atmosphere, see the pain when I'm gone and decide for themselves whether their lives are really bad enough that they need to end it.

I don't think anyone really cares. It may seem like they do - I know that if my best friend was here right now, he'd say;

But look, look at all those people, your family crying, the police worrying, all your friends shaking with panic.

And I would reply with;

No. No they don't care. If they did why weren't they here for me before? The police want to look good, they want to look as if they tried to stop me. The press want a good story to make money off my death. And as for my 'friends'? They just feel guilty that they weren't there for me when it really mattered.

I feel as if I'm ready to go now, the adrenaline has starting rushing through my body like electricity and my legs are starting to get cramp from the position that they've been in. I shuffle backwards and slowly rise to my feet, feeling all the people below reel back. I don't want to hear their shouts, I don't want to hear their cries. I dig into my jean pocket and pull out my ipod. As I put my headphones over my ears it dawns on me that this is it, this is my last song. I press shuffle and stare blankly at the screen, wondering what will be the backing track to my death.

It's Hold On by Skepta, was in the top 40 a few weeks back. What an ironic song for this occasion. I take a step forward, then another. The toes of my light blue converses are now teetering over the edge. I almost slip - a mini heart attack fizzes through my body as I swing myself back. I want to do this properly. I want to have my final flight. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then let it go. I pause. If this is on camera, it needs to be spectacular. If people are going to watch this, film this, then it needs to be someting that they'll remember for a long, long time. I take several steps backward, enough for me to get a good run up. I want to fly and I want everyone to see me do it.

I take a deep breath and start running, my strides short but fast - the way I used to take off for the 100m when I was 12. I used to win. My left foot hits the edge of the building and my right powers through the air as I throw my arms out.

'Cause you are undefeatable

The words blast through my headphones at maximum volume as I take off through the sky. I'm falling. I'm falling. There's no going back. This was my finale.

This, was my finale.