Every Minute Is a Choice

You always hear people say that sometimes being invisible is good. Well those people must not know what it truly feels like to be invisible. It sucks. You're standing right in front of someone, and they don't even notice you. Kinda makes you feel shitty.

Even though I'm the oldest child in the family-and definitely the smartest-I was at the bottom of the family ladder. My younger sister Elizabeth, or Lizzie, was the one who was graced with all the praise and love. I was lucky to get a hello.

Lizzie was your typical little blonde bimbo. Well, not really a bimbo...she did have some brains in her head, but she never used them. She was short-taller than me, though-with long bleach blonde hair. She was pretty and popular and every guy in the school wanted to fuck her.

And then there was me.

I'm short, barely reaching five feet, with long black hair. I have snakebites and plain brown eyes whereas Lizzie has those sparkling blue ones that every blonde seems to possess. I tend to keep to myself, mainly because people tend to avoid me. It doesn't matter to me. I'm not really a people person. The only change I'd make was to gain that magical little trait that turns guys' heads no matter what I do.

But no matter how hard I try, I just can't figure it out. Maybe that's why I've never had a boyfriend. Compared to Lizzie's oh...hundred billion?

By the midpoint of my senior year, I'd pretty much condemned myself to a life of being single. Because if a guy hadn't wanted me after seventeen years on this earth, why would one want me anytime in the next sixty or seventy years?

I hated my life.

Utterly and completely. I wished nothing more than to be so lucky as to be killed in a car crash, so I wouldn't have to do it myself.

Every day was the same. I'd come home from school and seclude myself in my room until the next morning. It's not like my family wanted my company anyhow. And since Lizzie usually got home before I did, I'd usually find her sitting at the kitchen table with a guy or two, sometimes three. When I walked past, they'd always spit, "Freak.", at my back.

But one Thursday when I arrived home, I found not just three, but five guys sitting around the table with my sister. And they were...well, sexy. All six sets of eyes trained on me, and I blushed. Whoops.

I hurried up the stairs to my room. The whole time, I could feel their eyes on my back. And I knew what they were thinking. 'Freak', 'piece of shit', 'ugly fuck'...all of these would work. Pick one.

Damn, why couldn't I be pretty like Lizzie?

Those good-looking guys kept hanging around our house, so I assumed they had the same goal that every other guy in the school had.

To get into my sister's pants.

Which wouldn't be hard. She was kinda a slut.

Normally I'd ignore her 'gentlemen callers' but there was one 'em that was just way too gorgeous to overlook. I didn't know his name, but I certainly wanted to. I knew he was a senior like me, because I'd seen him in the senior classes. And I knew his green eyes were totally hypnotizing, and if I weren't such a social outcast, I would be downstairs flirting with him.

But what chance did I have with a god like that? Or any of his friends for that matter? They were all pretty damn fine, and if I could get a suggestive look from one of them, it would make my millennium.

One day after I'd retreated to the sanctuary of my room, I realized I'd forgotten something down in the kitchen. And it just so happened that the god and his fine friends were sitting in the kitchen with my sister. Now normally I never really gave a flying fuck about what I looked like, but this time I decided to fix myself up a little. To go downstairs. I wasn't even leaving the house! Jeez, what was wrong with me? So I got all dolled up cuz I thought I'd go down and try to flirt a little, but surprise, surprise! I can never get what I want.

"So that other girl...that's your sister?", a male voice asked.

"Yea, her name's Samantha.", Lizzie's voice answered. "She's socially awkward."

"She's a freak if you ask me.", another male voice jeered. "I don't think I'd even give that a pity fuck."

Everyone, even my sister, started laughing, and I felt the tears form in the corners of my eyes. I slowly peeked around the corner to see who'd said the last comment and saw the gorgeous green-eyed boy getting high fives from the rest of the group.

That. He'd called me a that.

The next day after school, I couldn't bring myself to go home. I knew he would be there, and I didn't wish to remain in the small building with such a foul creature. I know, I know. Yesterday I had a huge crush on the boy, and today I hated him. But he'd called me a that. I was a she, not a that. Asshole.

So I sat in my car, running a piece of wire I pulled off a spiral notebook across my wrist over and over. It hurt like hell, but I didn't care. It was making me feel better. I jumped and dropped the wire when the passenger door opened and someone got in. Hmm, maybe that's why I felt like I was being followed when I left school. But who was the mystery guest?

I looked over and saw the dilhole sitting in the seat next to me. I scowled at him and quickly covered my bleeding wrist. I remained silent, thinking that if he wanted to talk to 'that', he'd have to say the first word.

"Samantha?" Oh God, his voice. It was as smooth as silk. And so inviting...no. This asshole called me a 'that', remember? "My name is Zacky."

So the god/asshole had a name. And a cute one, too. No, shut up. Oh God, I was talking to myself again. Forcing down the 'hi' bubbling behind my lips, I focused on my feet and instead said, "Well Zacky, if you so politely get the fuck out of my car, I'll go home and be out of your hair. Don't know why you'd want to talk to 'that' anyways.", I spat at him.

As soon as I said that, his face changed. He reached for me, but I drew away. Ha, how ironic was this? All I'd wanted for years was for a boy to want to touch me, and now that one did, I didn't want it anymore.

"I'm sorry I said that.", Zacky said softly.

Now I was curious. Why, after treating me so rudely behind my back, was he being so nice to me? "Why are you apologizing to me?"

He sighed. "Because after I said it, I heard someone walking back up the stairs and...and I knew you'd heard."

"So you're apologizing out of guilt, not because you actually feel sorry for what you said." This is what I had formulated in my mind. I waited for him to speak up and deny, but not a syllable left his snakebitten lips.

"Get out of my car!", I screamed. "Just get out and leave me alone, so I can go home and cry myself to sleep."

"Samantha, I don't understand why this upsets you so much-"

"She's my little sister!", I yelled, finally feeling the hot, salty tears falling down my face. "My little sister. Look at her. She's had a million boyfriends, and I haven't had any. And you wanna know why? Cuz she's pretty and I'm not. She's the one who gets all the attention from guys-and our parents-and I get shit. I wanna be pretty like Lizzie. I wanna be able to turn heads just by walking by. I wanna get laid every Saturday night. But no. I-I'll never be able to do that. Because I'll never be good enough for anyone. Do you know how badly it hurts to have everyone choose your little sister over you? It hurts like shit. And that's why...that's why I hate myself. Because I'm not good enough for anyone."

As soon as the last word left my mouth, I crumpled in on myself, ashamed to let Zacky see my tear-stained face. I'd just spilled all my deepest, darkest secrets to an almost complete stranger who just yesterday had been one of my many ridiculers.

He was silent for about thirty seconds before finally speaking. I guess he had to take it all in. "Samantha, I-I don't really know what to say. But I think there is one thing I can help you with." I looked up at him in awe. What was he saying? "Come by my house tomorrow night.", he finished, then he calmly exited my car.

After he left, I sat in the driver's seat, reeling. The god just invited me over to his house on a Saturday night. Did that mean...?

Oh hot damn.

The next night, I quickly found out that it did mean what I thought it meant. I'd barely been in his house for five minutes-long enough to notice we were the only two there. how convenient -before he whisked me upstairs to his bedroom. Zacky bedded me with such skill that I almost had to pinch myself to remind myself that this was real. Luckily Zacky took care of that.

When I got home-smelling of sex, which was a very nice smell. at least to me-Lizzie was sitting in her room, on her bed, looking very unhappy. I noticed she had her phone in her hand, which probably meant she'd just broken up with her current man-whore boyfriend. Since I was in a decent mood, I decided to investigate the situation.

"Hey Liz, what's the matter?", I asked.

"He won't text me back.", she said softly.

"Who?", I pressed, already bored with this conversation.

"Zacky."

Oh damn. This conversation just got very interesting. Before I could even think to stop it, a smug smile appeared on my face. "I know why Zacky didn't text you back.", I said. Wait, why was I doing this? Hmm, maybe it was because for once I wanted to see my oh so perfect little sister suffer like I do everyday.

Lizzie looked up at me, eyes hopeful. "Why?"

"Because for the past two hours, he's been in his bed, fucking me crazy."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, the way they always do when she's pissed. Her blue eyes turned a steely gray and she stared me down. Hmm, that's a tad scary. "You're lying.", she said, her voice dangerously low.

"No I'm not.", I said right back, my voice becoming more smug. I pulled the collar of my shirt down slightly, revealing a bright red hickey. "See this? Zacky did this to me. Oh, and in case you don't believe we really fucked, here's the wrapper from the condom he used." I pulled the purple plastic wrapper from my back pocket and threw in onto the bed in front of her.

"Why?"

"Because yesterday, he ambushed me in my car and ended up inviting me over to his house. Don't worry, though. It was just a one-time thing. And besides, why do you care? You've got plenty of other guys who will fuck you, don't you worry."

"Because I like him, you bitch!", Lizzie yelled. Okay, whoa. She did not just call me the b-word. "I really like him and then I find out you fucked him? God, you're such a slut, Sam. You know you were just a pity fuck. You meant nothing to Zacky. I can hear you whispering to yourself at night, Sam. And you're right. You're nothing but a worthless piece of shit who's never gonna be good enough for anyone. Especially Zacky."

I felt something snap inside of me. Not like a 'pissed' snap. Like a...a...a 'this is the end' type of snap. I ran from Lizzie, who was looking very proud of herself from the reaction she received from me. For once in my life luck was on my side, and mom and dad weren't home. I went into the den and dug around for the key to my dad's gun cabinet. Once I found it, I quickly unlocked the gun cabinet and pulled out a .22 caliber hand gun. I checked the clip.

One bullet.

And that's all it would take.

I decided to do it outside in the garage, so at least my parents would only have to clean my splattered brains from the garage walls. I was doing this because...Lizzie was right. Why did I think that just because I slept with Zacky all of my problems would go away? Sex isn't love. Zacky was just offering to help with the problem of losing my virginity, but never once did he say that anything would come of it.

Because Lizzie and everyone else was right. I wasn't good enough for anybody.

With shaking hands, I checked to make sure the bullet would fire when I pulled the trigger and that the silencer was on. Then I pressed the cold muzzle against my right temple.

Just before I pulled the trigger, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. What the hell? No one ever texted me. I don't even know why I had a phone. Glancing at the screen, I noticed I had a new message from an unknown number. I groaned. Probably just another random 'you're a freak' text. Oh well, might as well open it and know what other shit people could throw at me before I killed myself.

Sammy, I just wanted to tell you that you're an amazing person. And you are good enough. Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise. Zacky x

Using my foot, I kicked the gun to the other side of the garage. Then I looped my arms around my legs, buried my face in my knees, and cried.