Good.

I was lying down on the back yard. The wet green grass once again surrounding me. Nothing could hurt me here; nothing could be my unavoidable death here. The night sky was above me, the stars shinning more than my lifeless eyes. There, I didn’t have to pretend that I was okay; because I wasn’t. My life was nothing without her, and that fact no one could never change.

They thought four years would make me forget; oh, how wrong they were to think that! Nothing could ever make me forget those days of painful hearts and broken tears; nothing would take away the haunting ghosts of those I loved, which now were gone. Nothing could ever make me forget about her.

Her beautiful truthful smile, her black curls that went all the way to her shoulders, her round cute face, her dark, creamy chocolate eyes. The way she didn’t care about what others thought of her, the way we would cuddle in her bed every single night. The way she stroked my hair until I was asleep in her arms, the way she kissed my forehead as soon as I woke up… Everything about her was haunting yet memorable, always reminding me of what had happened.

She was not with me anymore, and I knew it wasn’t our fault; he had taken her away from me, probably thinking I’d be better off without her. That thought alone made me chuckle unkindly; how could I ever be better off without her? They all thought I was ready to be away from her; now, look at me. Look at what I’ve become.

They all say I’m a good person, but how good do you have to be to be considered a ‘good person’? I bet it takes a whole lot more than what I am deep down, to be considered a good person.

On the outside, I am good, so good it sickens me; I do my homework, I respect my family, I obey my superiors, I go to all the things I’m supposed to go, and I even go to church! But on the inside… on the inside I’m the devil itself; I burn people, torturing them until they’re as lifeless as the light in my eyes. I make them bleed around me; I make them drown in their own blood… I don’t think I’m a good person; if they knew what I’ve become, they’d run away. They’d be scared.

I hoped they would leave me for good. Leave me alone.

I couldn’t tolerate all the smiles I had to fake, all the tears I had to hide, all the self-destruction that had to be covered up with false laughs, false confidence; a false life, after all. I couldn’t handle this life that didn’t belong to me; it was becoming too much for my own good, and, if it lasted any longer, I’d end up killing them all. I had already started. I had started with me.

The blade was sharp and deadly on my hips; they were bleeding uncontrollably, I wanted them to. I needed to see the bright red silkiness. I wouldn’t take it in any other way, if you’re asking; I wanted to get rid of that disgusting yet beautiful crimson liquid that filled every single bit of my body. Well, not anymore.

Soon enough, the blade gained its own will, and started sliding through my abdomen, to my chest, where it rested, waiting for me to do that final movement; the end of the play, the end of the life of a 15-year-old great actress. Everyone would be on their feet, after it’s done; they’d give that girl a standing ovation. For all that she had hidden from all of them, in a fabulous act that no one suspected about. They’d be amazed by how they were so ignorant, so stupid; they’d finally connect the pieces of the obvious jigsaw puzzle they had in front of them, but they never saw. They’d see the signs. The little clues she gave all of them, but they never knew about. They’d see why she had done what she’d done.

They’d be terrified of what I’d become, of what my “strength” and “courage” had led me to do; it was just one simple thrust, and it would all soon be over.

The letter lay immaculate near me, untouched by my bloody hands or that strong-smelling red liquid that surrounded my already aching body. Tears of happiness ran down my face, as I looked over at the laughing blade that lay unforgotten on my chest. Ah, my sweet relief. My sweet revenge, only a few inches away. Three cheers for sweet revenge, everyone! Scream with me, cry with me, feel it with me! Clap at my actions, make me feel wanted, make me feel loved! Make me understand why it is so wrong! Make me alive, again!

It was too late; too late to save that so called ‘good girl’. It was too late to save me from drowning and choking on my breath. It was simply too late.

The blade was impatiently sparking my attention as I thought about what remained of me; only a faded shadow of what I once was. I was no longer that sweet caring girl that everyone met, once; I was someone who was laughing at her own death. Someone who laughed at other’s disgrace, someone who didn’t give a fuck about anything. And, no matter what, that little innocent girl would never come back; after seeing all I had seen, could I still reclaim my innocence? Of course I couldn’t. I wasn’t good enough to be considered a ‘good person’, anymore. My innocence had been taken; my eyes were full of blood desires, my mind wanting flames to drink up every single thing that surrounded me. In fact, I even wanted the flames to eat me up, to get me high and turn me to ashes. I just wasn’t ‘good’ anymore.

It was time. I couldn’t take it any longer.

I closed my eyes, taking the blade eagerly in my shaking hands; ah, this would be my moment. My solo. My so awaited refreshing start, on a lower level of what I am now. A brand new start, right in hell.

I raised the blade above my head, still lying on the floor, and then it pierced downwards, directly into my heart. I felt it beat against my ribs, the blood leaving its safe place and running like crazy over the blade, over my chest, over my hands, pooling on the floor. I smiled, knowing who I was going to meet, before I went to hell. Mommy, I’m coming to get you…

So, do you still think I’m a ‘good’ person?