Dirt | Teen Ink


December 10, 2018
By Jordi2112 PLATINUM, Gardner, Kansas
Jordi2112 PLATINUM, Gardner, Kansas
29 articles 6 photos 27 comments

Favorite Quote:
“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe

The gun was cold and heavy in my hand. My body swayed in the wind where I stood. I looked up at the sky and my eyes started to sting. A small part of me didn’t want to die but the worse half of me was too convincing. I sat down to stop myself from falling over the edge of the roof of my apartment building. If anyone noticed I had gone missing, they wouldn’t find me here for a long time. My head buzzed with anticipation and fear. Despite my intention to die, I couldn’t stop the fear from clawing its way into my chest. My hair swirled around me in a dark brown tornado and obscured my vision every time the wind picked up.

I held the gun up and studied it for a moment. Then I held it up to my head and closed my eyes. I’ll finally be free from all this. All the pain and jealousy and anger. All of it.

“Skye!” A voice screamed behind me. I knew the voice. I knew the bright blue eyes and the blonde hair. I knew the height and the laugh and the friendship. What I didn’t want to know was the disappointment I would see in his eyes as soon as I turned. He was frozen, ten feet behind me. “Skye.”

“Go away, Gabe. You don’t need to see this.” My voice quavered and a lump lodged itself in my throat.

“Skye, don’t do this! Please!” He started towards me, his hands held out in my direction. I closed my eyes and a tear fell from my eye. I swiped at it and cursed it. If I hated anything in this world, it was being weak. How hypocritical. Here in my weakest moment I hate myself for crying.

F off.” I did my best to be mean. There was no way he was talking me out of this. He couldn’t talk me out of this.

“No, please! Stop this!” Gabe got within three feet and I could feel the anticipation of his muscles, ready to reach out and yank the gun out of my trembling hands.

He came closer. So close I could almost feel his heartbeat, thudding like a trapped hummingbird. “Back up!” I yelled, turning the gun on him and stepping off the ledge to face him.

“What the hell, Skye!” He instantly backed up and I could see the regret in his eyes, forming an escape plan to get away from the stupid lonely girl he befriended in the seventh grade. The frown on his face was one I had never seen before. Something he had never pointed in my direction. It made my heart clench up seeing that look.

“I said, back up!” I pushed the gun into his chest. He raised his arms and stared at me hard.

“Why are you doing this, Skye?” His eyes were pleading with me and his voice was sad. His face softened and he lowered his hands. “Please just give the gun to me.”

I looked away for a moment, behind his shoulder at the door to the roof. He took that moment to grab my hands and try to shake the gun out of them.

“Stop!” I screeched, wrestling with his grip. My arms were no match for his but I elbowed him in the stomach and he loosened his grip. Sweat dripped from my forehead even though it was near freezing outside. I kneed him in between his legs and yanked the gun from his hands. Without thinking I pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened at first. He just backed up with a look of disbelief on his face. Then in an instant, the entire front of his shirt was covered in blood. He staggered for a moment, his hands trying to control the gush of blood. I stared at the blood and could feel the bile rising in my throat. The boy I had loved for so long, I had killed.

He fell limply onto the hard platform of the roof.

The author's comments:

Inspired by a writing prompt from my friend.

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