Priceless (A MIKA Fanfic) (Remake)

Chapter 34

(Trigger warning - suicide and self harm.)

As soon as I got home, I ran up to my bedroom. I felt bad about what I was about to do, but I felt as if I had to do it. I was so tired of myself and my own life, and I genuinely hated myself.

I thought about what the first thing that I would need to do before I killed myself would be. People needed to know the reason behind why I did it. So I decided that I would write a short letter explaining this.

I took my school bag off my back, and I sat down on my bed and looked through it for my pencil case. When I had found it, I removed it from the bag, then I searched for my notebook. Remembering that I had put it in the second drawer of my bedside cabinet, I took it out. Then I unzipped my pencil case, chose a pen, and opened the notebook to the next clean page I had.

And I began to write.

"Dear whoever reads this letter,

I have killed myself. There are quite a few reasons why I have resorted to this, and if you read this letter, you will find out what those reasons were.

The first reason why I have taken my own life is because of the fact that I can't speak at school. I have a disorder that causes this, and it makes life a lot harder for me. When other people at school are spoken to, they can just answer the person who is talking to them. But whenever someone talks to me, I just can't. I constantly feel bad about myself because of this, and I feel as if I'm worthless compared to everyone else.

The second reason is that I am bullied and made fun of every day of my life because of the fact that I can't talk at school. They don't know about it, because I obviously can't tell them, and they always say that I'm ignorant and pathetic. They also call me ugly, and they just hate me for no real reason. It hurts me a lot, and it's just horrible.

The third reason is that I also suffer from panic attacks. Well, I think I do. I don't know exactly what they are. But they're awful. Sometimes when people make fun of me, I start to overthink what is happening, and I end up feeling like I can't control my own body because I'm worrying about what the bullies are saying too much. Nobody really cares when it's happening, and I always feel terrible whenever I feel like that.

The fourth and final reason is that I just hate every part of myself. I'm not worth anything, and it's not like I'm ever going to achieve anything because of the way I am. I always feel as if I would rather die than carry on with life as myself, and I would give anything to just be someone other than me."

After I had written this, I reread it, and I decided that it was good enough. I put my pen to the paper to end the letter, but then I realised that I hadn't said anything about Mica in the letter. So then I wrote some more.

"Also, about a month ago, I fell in love with a boy. His name is Mica, and he was the only person that truly cared about me. He was the only person that could make me smile when I wanted to die, and he was so much more than a boyfriend. He was a best friend too.

And if you ever see him, I want you to tell him one thing.

Tell him that I loved him.

Mica, if you are reading this, I just want you to know that it isn't your fault that I died. Don't think that it happened because you didn't care about me enough, or anything like that. I love you, and I will continue to love you even when I'm not here.

Yours sincerely,

Victoria."

I finished the letter and read it as a whole, and I decided that it was satisfactory. Then I carefully took the pages I had written on out of my notebook, and I laid them next to each other beside me on the bed. I put my notebook back in my drawer and my pencil case back in my bag, then I stood up and went downstairs to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, there was a shelf that was full of different medicines and pills. I knew that there would probably be something on that shelf that I could take. When I got to the shelf, I took each form of medication from it, and I looked at them all, trying to figure out which one would kill me.

I spotted a box of sleeping pills among them, and I knew that they would. We had learned about it in Science before at school. The box hadn't been opened yet, so there was probably quite a lot of pills in it.

I opened the box, not quite believing that I was doing this. I thought of Mica again, and I almost wanted to close the box again and go back to my room. But I knew that I had to do it.

After I had opened the box, I took out the packet of sleeping pills, and I emptied the contents of it onto the kitchen counter. Then I made myself a tall glass of water, and I took a deep breath as I walked over to the pills and placed the glass next to them.

I thought about how Mica would feel if he could see me in that moment. I pictured him, begging me not to do it, tears streaming down his face. But I pushed that thought away, and I focused on all the reasons why I felt I had to take my own life.

Jade and Emily exposing Mica and I. The older girl that called me 'the girl with the messed up face'. All the times I had been made fun of by other kids. My panic attacks. The fact that I couldn't speak at school. If I didn't end it all now, then when would it end? I would have to go through all of this for the rest of my life.

So I picked up a pill and put it in my mouth, then I washed it down with the water. I did it again and again, not knowing how many of them it would take. Every time I took a pill, I listed a reason why I wanted to die.

One pill because I can't talk at school.

One pill because I hate myself.

One pill because I get bullied every day.

One pill because I'm an awful girlfriend.

One pill because I have panic attacks.

One pill because I'm a failure.

When I was finally done, I found that there were no pills left, and I had taken them all. I put the other medications back on the shelf, feeling a little light-headed. Then I put the empty glass in the sink, and the box and packet for the sleeping pills into the bin, before going back upstairs.

I went back to my bedroom, and on walking inside, I suddenly felt an urge to self harm. I hadn't felt this feeling for a few days now, and I almost hadn't done it for a week. But I was going to die anyway now, so I didn't really care anymore.

I took the box of blades from the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet, and I went into the bathroom like I usually did. I sat down on the toilet seat, and after choosing a blade from the box, I rolled up the sleeve of my blazer.

If I hadn't died from taking the sleeping pills, I would probably have died from what I did next. I picked up the blade, and I made one cut all the way down my arm. I did this again on my other arm, then I put the blade back in the box.

I watched as blood appeared at the surface of both cuts, then began to run down my arms. All of the horrible things that people at school had said to me played in my head, and I thought about the names they called me, the things they did. They were all true.

I thought about what would happen tomorrow at school. The headteacher probably wouldn't talk about me in assembly, because the teachers at my school just didn't care about anything or anyone. Nobody would even notice that I was gone. Mica would, but nobody else.

Looking down at my arms, I realised that there was a lot of blood now. I decided to try and try to clean some of it up, because it looked awful. But as I stood up, I found that I could barely keep myself upright. I staggered over to the sink, so dizzy that I couldn't think anymore. I attempted to steady myself again, but I couldn't.

Then I felt myself fall to the floor, and everything went black.