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I just want to DIE!

Should I die, I don't think anyone would actually care. My name is Bella Swan and I want to die. I live with my dad in a town called Forks and I want to die. I had a boyfriend who was a vampire but he left me and now I want to die. My best friend Jacob has abandoned me for a cult and now I want to die. Did I forget anything? Oh yes, I want to die because my life sucks. This story is incredibly depressing and i have no idea why i wrote it. Don't read, save your sanity

I was bored. No i am not getting depressed again, those days are over (many thanks to Moonspinner). But for some reason, i started to write this. Maybe i'm being possessed. OH! i just had a great story idea....Anyway, this is during the stage where Jake is ignoring Bella (stupid mongrel). She decides she wants to feel a new pain. Warning: This story may not end well. My sad stories don't tend to have happy endings...well actually, some of my less sad stories don't either. My random ones do but the rest don't often.

3. a Kitchen knife

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I was walking towards my truck.

"I can't believe Mike. He looks so hopeful every time he sees Bella! But she is so hopeless! A boy dumps her and she's gone all ‘oh, I'm going to turn into a zombie because I'm miss stuck up Isabella swan!'"

"But Lauren, it was Edward Cullen"

"Just because it's Edward Cullen, doesn't mean she can act like a stuck up cow who's above us all" his name ripped a fresh hole in me.

I had to get away. I'd overheard a comment made by Lauren to Jessica and it pushed me over the edge, I knew that much. I drove home as fast as my truck would allow me. Since the weekend, I hadn't cut myself once. I'd been quite relaxed after that one bad nightmare. I didn't know why but now I didn't care. I raced home and tore upstairs.


I rushed downstairs but a gleam of silver caught my eyes and I paused. A light had reflected off the blade of a kitchen knife. I picked up the knife and felt the sharpness of it. It was beautiful and deadly. It...was like him. I felt a sharp stab of pain and just slammed into action. I knew that if I started now, Charlie would arrive soon and I wouldn't get the release I badly needed.

So I scribbled a note, saying that I'd gone out for a while with Angela, and might not be back until late. I felt slightly bad for using Angela as an alibi but it couldn't be helped. I climbed into my truck and drove. I drove without sight or meaning, and then as quickly as I had started, I stopped. I climbed out and ran. Through shapeless greenery, I hurled myself until I tripped and plummeted to the ground. I took a deep breath and pulled myself into a sitting position. I was far enough from the trail that no one would stumble across me. I rolled up my sleeve but it kept falling down. I ripped off my t-shirt and tossed it to the ground. No one would see me, what did I care? Then I took off my jeans so I could see all my cuts.

I started slowly. I sliced each of my cuts open again, first the healed ones and then the more recent ones. Then I sliced across my abdomen. Oh...that felt good. I held the blade in front of me and looked at the beautiful blade that now glistened a sickly red.

I suddenly felt the weight of it all. Edward, Jacob, Charlie, Angela, Jessica, Renee, the whole of Forks was crashing down on me. I needed release. I picked up the knife again. That was when I realized exactly how sharp it was. The blade was as sharp as possible. It looked like it would cut me in two with a single slice. But I didn't care. One more cut wouldn't hurt. I pressed the point against the veins of my right wrist, and then sliced. I moaned in pain as the blood started to trickle out, slow at first and then faster until it was a scarlet river. I swapped hands and, ignoring the blood that was running over the knife's handle. I sliced through my other wrist and moaned again but not with pain. With ecstasy. It made me gasp and groan but the pain was a good pain. I examined my wrists, noticing my vision was starting to blur. But it still wasn't enough. I placed one hand on my throat and felt the pulse throbbing there. One more wouldn't matter would it? I placed the point of the knife on my warm throat. I shouldn't. I should. I shouldn't. I was torn. Should I cut myself one more time just to feel that pain? A twig snapped and my head jerked. The blade sliced my throat and I screamed in painful delight. The delight faded, leaving just the pain. I cried out again and dropped the knife. My hands were stained a dark red, almost black, they were so covered in blood. The smell overwhelmed me and the world span. No green, no light, no sound. Just blood.