The Melancholy life of Deirdre Rose.
Chapter Two.
Dear Father,
I hate you.
I hope your burning.
Remember when you used to take me on bike rides and we used to get ice cream? I hated that. Maybe not then, but now? I hate ice cream. And bikes. Or going out, especially with you.
I hope they've taught you your lesson.. Don't take the easy way, the short cut.
Of course, I didn't.
Did it hurt? Well, even if it didn't, I know your paying for it.
What's the food like? Well, I don't really care. I don't eat.
Or the beds? Are they comfortable? I'm an insomniac. I don't sleep.
Wait, what about the activities? Is there much to do? Can you go out? Shopping? Cinema?
Hold on- I don't go out. Remember? Oh no, wait, you don't. Because you were gone before you could learn. I don't like 'fun'. Just because I'm not enthusiastic doesn't mean I don't find pleasure in other things. In revenge.
So, I hope it's good down there because guess what?
I'm coming down.
From,
Your melancholic daughter, Deirdre Rose.
-
I put down the pen, and I picked up the rope I kept in a box in my bed side drawer.
Still not showered, still in my clothes from when I came home from the hospital, I tied the rope.
I looked up, at the fan on the cieling. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I stood up on my bed, wobbling from not having moved in so long.
I wrapped the rope around it, and tied it securely, leaving a loop.
I slid my head through the loop, making sure I had enough room to move my arm so I could switch the fan on. Check.
5 seconds.
Five seconds then I would reach over and switch the fan on. Then I would die. It would be gory, gruesome, grotesque. It would be history.
I would win.
2 seconds.
Two seconds and I would be gone.
I would win.
1 second.
I slowly reached over, and coughed. The rope was digging into me. I pulled it tighter, it was hard to breath. Now I couldn't breath at all.
With my last breaths, I managed to say " I hate you all", just as Jack came bashing in through the door, and thinkng it was the light switch, turned my fan on.
Who won now?
Not you.
I hate you.
I hope your burning.
Remember when you used to take me on bike rides and we used to get ice cream? I hated that. Maybe not then, but now? I hate ice cream. And bikes. Or going out, especially with you.
I hope they've taught you your lesson.. Don't take the easy way, the short cut.
Of course, I didn't.
Did it hurt? Well, even if it didn't, I know your paying for it.
What's the food like? Well, I don't really care. I don't eat.
Or the beds? Are they comfortable? I'm an insomniac. I don't sleep.
Wait, what about the activities? Is there much to do? Can you go out? Shopping? Cinema?
Hold on- I don't go out. Remember? Oh no, wait, you don't. Because you were gone before you could learn. I don't like 'fun'. Just because I'm not enthusiastic doesn't mean I don't find pleasure in other things. In revenge.
So, I hope it's good down there because guess what?
I'm coming down.
From,
Your melancholic daughter, Deirdre Rose.
-
I put down the pen, and I picked up the rope I kept in a box in my bed side drawer.
Still not showered, still in my clothes from when I came home from the hospital, I tied the rope.
I looked up, at the fan on the cieling. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I stood up on my bed, wobbling from not having moved in so long.
I wrapped the rope around it, and tied it securely, leaving a loop.
I slid my head through the loop, making sure I had enough room to move my arm so I could switch the fan on. Check.
5 seconds.
Five seconds then I would reach over and switch the fan on. Then I would die. It would be gory, gruesome, grotesque. It would be history.
I would win.
2 seconds.
Two seconds and I would be gone.
I would win.
1 second.
I slowly reached over, and coughed. The rope was digging into me. I pulled it tighter, it was hard to breath. Now I couldn't breath at all.
With my last breaths, I managed to say " I hate you all", just as Jack came bashing in through the door, and thinkng it was the light switch, turned my fan on.
Who won now?
Not you.
♠ ♠ ♠
Mann :/