Suicide Of A Silent Emo Girl

Nobody saw the storm in her eyes, the cries that her mouth softened into a deafening silence, the desperate glances she sent to everyone as if they were friends. The light in her heart slowly faded out and nobody saw it. Her feet carried her through the endless streets she walked every day. Everyone saw her but no one looked under the first layer of skin. Nobody saw her wounds, the eternal pain she carried like a mother that carried a baby in her belly. But there was no cheerful feeling or pride connected to this. You've probably already seen her, but you didn't let her further in your heart. She was that silent emo girl in the back of the class that never spoke much and drew little skulls on her book. She was the girl who was bullied because she looked different than the blond beings with tiny t-shirts, showing boobs and walking around as if they already knew the whole world. The boys of the class paid no attention to her. She was like air with an unpleasant smell. Everyone blew her off and wondered what hat plague was.

And now, they were all there. The blonde aliens suddenly had a startled look in their eyes and cried black tears they never expected to ever cry for her. The boys stood there and suddenly all their attention went to her, instead of football and their bet who would get the most popular girl in bed first. Her own family who always ignored her and had almost forgotten that she was a part of them, now stood with their hands over their mouths to choke their shouts, along with their guilt. A few strange bystanders gave her the attention they always let slip over her head. Some old friends who had let her fade away along with the friendship that was not as important as their pocket money they spent on expensive perfume and designer clothes. Yes, now they were all there. All the people who were always absent in times when the girl needed them the most, were now suddenly all present and couldn't understand how this could have happened. All these people didn't understand that they had made the mistakes, it wasn't her. They didn't understand that it was their fault. Of course everyone always says that no one is at fault when something bad happened, but here it was different because it was indeed the fault of those blonde girls, those bullies, that ignoring family, those whispering classmates and the friends who never called her anymore. They were guilty, every single person who was now present. All of them.

Yes, the image was shocking. Yes, it was nauseating and terrible. Yes, it was the hard reality that was now a big show. There was no escape, no one could deny her presence anymore. A lot of shocked people and each had the same emotion on their faces. Silent and deadly guilt they could never say aloud.

The house in the quiet street attracted many more people now. The number was made unrecognizable because of the large bloodstain that was on it. The windows had undergone the same treatment and were covered with red desperation. The lifeless body that once showed light and love sat slumped on the wooden door of her own home. Her right hand was still beside her body and held the Glock 21 of her father. What was left of her head was now stuck to the wall. The bloodstains even went to the windows two meters beside her. The people around her could only recognize her by her dyed black hair that had a few red stripes in it. No blue eyes, no cute nose and no soft skin. Everything that was left of her was a horrible mess that made several people vomit on the grass. Everyone knew that this was suicide but nobody could answer the question: why? Why the door, in the garden, where everyone could see it? How was it possible that nobody saw her walking out with a weapon. How was it possible that nobody saw her putting it in her mouth?

Her sister who was always so much better than her and therefore got more things and got more love, was sitting on her knees and cried for the first time in her life for her sister. For the first time she saw what the arrogance had done but she swallowed the guilt silently. She didn't think anyone would accuse her of this and would give her dirty looks, even though she knew she actually deserved it. Her older brother was still throwing up and stood trembling. He thought about all the times he had pushed her out of his room when she was asking for attention while crying. He also knew that it was his fault but tried to disappear in the background while he nearly drowned in his own self-hatred. Mommy and Daddy were tied together in a depressing embrace and looked in vain for a solution to undo this. Mama knew she gave her no attention and would have preferred that she sat quietly in her room while she and her husband could see a nice movie. Dad wished he had once held her like he was holding his wife. He felt like a bad father but denied that he really was. He didn't admit that he had made a mistake, maybe even more than one. The neighbors who always complained about her death metal music that disturbed their afternoon nap and intimate moments, were looking with startled eyes at everything that remained of the girl. They remembered all the complaints and fights with her and her parents. Now they felt a gnawing feeling in their hearts and wish they had talked more with her to so they could've made a good last impression before she left. Friends who didn't talk for months and years, were now silent in the large group. One call might have saved her life but now they couldn't turn back their fault.

The blood on the walls, windows and the grass was mostly dried up and that was just sad. How long did it take before someone had found her like that? Probably a few hours. Even her death was not important enough to get attention faster than at other times. How long would she have stood at the door and walked in circles with the weapon in her hand. How long would she have thought about what she was about to do? Even in her last moments she was alone and had no one with whom she could share her thoughts. She was so lonely, so terribly lonely. The world is so big, why was it so difficult to find one person who honestly cared about her?

Mama took the piece of paper from the hand of her dead daughter and looked at it with trembling hands. It was clear that this was a suicide note but there were only a few sentences. "Do you see me now? Am I pretty? You probably can never go through this door again without thinking of me. No one will forget me now because I made a good spectacle of myself, just like everyone wanted. Are you crying? Do you feel bad? Good. Now you know how I felt. Oh yeah, one more thing. Fuck you. "

Now everyone stood with their hands over their stomachs as they tried not to puke their last meal out of their trembling bodies. They shook their heads in disgust while flowing tears dried and panicked cries chilled the neighborhood to the bone. Yes, now they are sorry. But now it's too late.

She was just that quiet Emo girl in class. Only the silent daughter who wasn't like the other pride in the family. Only the annoying neighbor who was a death metal monster and cursed like a prisoner. Only that friend others once sat next to in the classroom and had shared a sandwich with. Only that Emo girl that walked into the quiet streets at night and was therefore viewed as a criminal. Just that girl that everyone would rather avoid because she had a dark cloud hanging over her head. Only just a girl. Just anyone. Somewhere.