THE SUICIDE GIRL

With how fragile his full, tick-haired head looks, I doubt it would last up to one– or maybe two– minutes if I hit it against the wall not so far away from him.

At least if I'm detained for his murder this time around, I'll serve my punishment and my mum will have to be set free.

I doubt they won't put bit and bit together after finding his corpse the same way I left my dad's and know that I killed him too. They are smart, they would know.

A sour acid-like taste creeps into my mouth and my chest tightens as I remember her. And how she looked when they dragged her away.

I wonder what they are doing to her right now, I wonder about the state she is in. I wonder if they would be so ruthless enough to hit her.

My fist clenches at the thought of someone hitting her and my heart palpitates.

It happens so quickly that I suck in a rush of air and bring my hand to the base of my throat, my eyes rolling over to my head and my breathing going up and up. "Jesus, breathe Bella, breathe," I whisper, kneading my hands up and down my chest.

All this while the fella or should I say stranger as I don't know his name yet keeps calm. He doesn't the least react as if he just witnessed a lady almost have a panic attack.

I don't know if I should call it a lack of gentlemanly gesture or an inhumane disposition. I barely know what to address it as, my head is blank and empty like a bottomless pit. But whatever it is– I mean whatever he just pulled off, I like it.

Not because it came from him as I don't think I like him– or maybe I– But because I've always loved being ignored even if I'm about to die.

Like, I just want to lift my head and scream "get your wretched eyes off me!" at people each time I walk in my slow-paced steps with my head hung low and they keep shooting me those sorrowful gazes.

I don't even stop when I see someone about to commit suicide, like bruh, if you think that's the best way out of whatever it is you're going through then fucking do it.

Who am I to stop you? Nah, I don't think I have enough time for that shit.

I don't think I want to go into details about the last time I met a girl who wanted to commit suicide. But I think I will because, on that day, I actually stopped just to hear her story.

What did you think? That I stopped to be her savior? Nah, never! I meant it when I said I'll never stop anyone from committing suicide, I might have delayed her but I still gave her the chance to anyway.

So it was on one of those mornings. Woke up to shouts, howls, and shattering of things.

They were fighting again. A day never passed without that. And what was it about this time?

Well, you won't believe it if I told you, but whether you will or not I'll tell you anyway.

So Chelsea had a match the previous night and well, my so-called dad was a great fan.

So whenever they had a match and he knew he won't be available to watch, mum did for him.

It's kinda the only romantic thing, I think they shared. And although I found it casual as I never take things seriously, I loved it.

Seeing mum sitting on the couch, her phone in her hands, her eyes glued to the tv with a fascinating smile on her face was the best feeling ever.

Those days and nights were the only peaceful days and nights we had.

I don't count them as we only had them because by the time mum will relate all she copied down as she watched the match to him, either he or she will fall asleep. There wasn't enough time for quarrels and fights.

So this particular night was different. Chelsea's match collided with a Bollywood blockbuster series mum recently started following.

And my dad as unfortunate as he could ever be was not free to watch the match himself.

The only chances left were for mum to keep her blind love for him aside and satisfy herself or she does the normal routine.

I was sitting beside her, my eyes glued to her like superglue as I waited to see what she would do. Not that I already didn't know what she would do, I just wanted to confirm my thoughts and see if she could be so dumb as to do what my heart told me she would do.

Well, just as I had thought, the love-stricken woman chose to watch the match over her happiness! Like what? Who does that?! Never!

I snatched the remote right out of her hand and changed the channel back to starlife.

She was awed! Her jaw dropped and her eyes dilated. "No, Bella. No, no, I need to watch that match, please I need to." She babbled in a hurry but made sure to keep her voice down even though I knew she wanted to do more than scream at me.

I stared at her, at her now sweaty palm and heavy breathing, and shook my head.

Her action made me wonder how long a person was meant to live as a fool and a simp.

I didn't return the remote to her no matter how hard she begged and she didn't as much try to snatch it from me. That was it. She missed the match because of me and the next morning received the beating of her life.

I was meant to be sorry for her but I felt no empathy whatsoever. I quietly dressed up and walked away. It was while walking that I met the young girl. Yes, the suicide girl.