Make It Stop (September's children)

A Story by Jess Holden

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She never did anything wrong, nor did she have it in her do to wrong. It wasn't how she was raised, but not much was given to raise her. She walked to and from school, had a few friends, and was pretty well content with the life she had.

She began to grow, and discovered a horrible secret, one she knew nobody else would understand, and one she knew would ruin her. She had above average grades, but somehow her secret got out.

She lost all her friends, and her peers began to bully her, posting rude things on her locker and stealing her things. They would wait, like hungry wolves, for her to come to school just to upset her. At first, she put up with it, but after a week, a month, her patience began to wither.

Then their came a day that she knew would come, but she realized that she couldn't make it. She couldn't take another person stealing her backpack, or spitting on her, or ignoring her for being who she was.

That morning when they stole her backpack and toyed with her for awhile, she snatched up her bag, and walked home, too emotionally exhausted to care anymore.

She walked down the lonely road, never making eye contact with anyone, noticing only a few leaves to keep her company.

When she arrived home, her father lie passed out from heroin on the living room couch, the room a mess with garbage and the foul smell of dirt. She noticed the lack of her mother, wandering to the kitchen to find the note, barley legible between the drops of blood and tears.

Her mother ran to live with her grandmother hours from there, leaving the girl and her drug addicted father. The girl, both pale and aged lookng, walked into her room, and shut the door quietly behind her, so as not to disturb her father.

She dropped her bag getnly onto the bed next to her, as she turned to the dresser and pulled open the center drawer, bringing out a small rusted metal box. She turned and placed it on the bed, going back to the door and locking it.

She sat onto the bed, and just starred at the box for minutes, until she finally built up the courage to open the lid. Inside was a gun, with more than enough bullets for her purpose. She picked up the magazine in one hand and the gun in the other. She pushed the magazine into the gun, cocking it quietly, as her mind swam with the thoughts of school, the bullies, her mother, her father.

She held the gun to her temple, her mind a million miles away, her eyes glazed over, and held the cold metal there.

She closed her eyes and pushed the gun to her temple harder, fighting back tears of joy as she thought of all that would end. Then, something flashed, a memory of some kind behind her eye lids.

She saw herself, going out to eat, smiling, laughing, picking out her wedding ring, and marrying the love of her life. She kept her eyes closed as she enjoyed the images she was recieving; of what was to be if she lived after today.

She opened her eyes and removed the magazine, placing the gun back into its metal box, and back inside the dresser drawer.

One day she would marry the woman of her dreams, she jsut knew it.

"...Too much blood has flown from the wrists,

Of the children shamed,

For those they chose to kiss..."