It was as quiet in the house when I got home. Mother was gone to work, sister was at a friends and father was out doing god knows what with his poor, helpless life. There I stood alone. Staring. Tears streamed down my face but all I did was stare. I dropped my bag on the ground next to the couch and made my way up to the upstairs bathroom. I opened the cabinets over the sink not making a sound or speaking a word, I took a razor from the shelf, closed the cabinet, gripping the razor in my hand ever so tightly, I closed the door putting my back against the wall slowly sliding down the wall sitting with my legs spread out on the floor.

I rolled up my sleeve placing the razor on my fair, white skin, I took a deep breath and moved the blade across my skin over and over again, breaking skin on my arms and legs. I whispered, “you did this..all of you did this..you brought me to this decision.” As I cried hysterically, thinking about what the, so called bullies had and have been saying to me for 7 years now. Why must people be so rude to people? I think so myself, “Why must this happen to me? Why must this happen to anyone?”

They say that bullies do this to other people because their parents do it to them..but, wouldn’t you think that they would want to change and not be like their parents because they know how it feels to be abused, not only physically but emotionally. It can tear people apart and drive people to this decision. Suicide. I was about to make a decision that I would turn back from by cutting in the most tender place on my wrist, the place that will end my life forever. But, before ending my life I carved four words on my body. A word on my left arm, right arm, left leg, right leg. I finally drew my last breath and slit my wrist one last time, dropping the razor to the ground and slowly breathed leaning my head back against the wall, losing my breath.

It was 9:47 p.m. when my mother found my lifeless, cold body in the bathroom. She sensed something was wrong the moment I didn’t answer her when she shouted, “Tristen, I’m home!” I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head right now. I stood over her as she embraced my corpse in her arms. I placed my hand on her shoulder and immediately shivers went up her spine. She looked at my arms and legs, she pieced the words together and shortly she whispered to herself, “Bullies…Ruined…My…Life…” right after she had finished reading my arms and legs I bent over and whispered in her ear, “I’ll always be your little girl. Your guardian angel.” At that moment my ghostly figure faded away. Leaving my mother to mourn on her own.

4 years later my parents were okay. Mother and father are now getting along for my younger sister. My sister was scarred for life from the accident that had happened only 4 years earlier, but she was doing great on her own. I felt bad for leaving them. Ariel now doesn’t have an older sister to look up to. But, my parents have a baby on the way. A little girl. Now, Ariel can be a role model to little Madalyn.

After my passing there has been no more bullies bullying kids. I can feel that they felt really bad about what they did and they’ll always feel guilty. They all can now say, “I murdered someone..” I’ve changed history for John Jay High School. I can honestly say I have no regrets but I always miss the warm sensation of a loving hug from my dearest mother. The irritating sounds that my sister always made.

This is to all the bullies in the world that bully people daily to make their self feel better. Is it really worth it in the end when someone loses their life over the things you said to them? Is it worth to feel that hatred toward you when you walk to halls at school and everyone knows that your who caused someone to commit suicide?