I shudder at the image. Without a doubt, the drawing portrayed me, standing ever so still at the edge of some sort of object that seemed to vanish towards the base. As I scanned it, I came to realize the object had a reddish brown color and a grainy texture. These details matched the fire department. No, the fire department was a deeper red and had a hint of burgundy. This was a building all right, but not the fire department. I browsed the entire illustration, and I knew the word was at the tip of my tongue.

After a few minutes of observation, I came to a conclusion: I didn't know what the fuck it was.

Without hesitation, I read the words written underneath in elegant cursive.

"I can feel the metallic surface cutting the edge of my feet, but I don't let it bother me. I stand on top of the apartment's roof, my toes slightly curled over the edge. My heart is beating faster, and feeling heavier as it pounds in my fragile chest. The sound takes over every background noise in my surroundings, and I can no longer hear. Or taste. Or smell.

All that I can do is stare at the open roads and common stoplights from below. New Jersey was a beautiful place. Granted, the state has murderous trials every week and a far from vacant jail cell, not to mention bullies and stereotypical jocks and ratchet girls. But life is about looking at the bright side, and look at Jersey. It has local punk roots from every city, diverse and homey foods and restaurants, and a fun atmosphere for young daredevils everywhere. Yes,Jersey was such a beautiful place. Until I came along.

I imagine Mikey coming home without me in the house. I bet he'd invite all his friends to a party. Mikey would be the sheepish little brother he is, and greet all the girls who decided to come and fist bump every guy who had the time. He'd probably find a nice girl who loves the things he loves, and they'd talk. The girl would have a bright smile, deep eyes, and a love for comics. Perhaps she would play bass and teach him some riffs, and stay all night long watching horror movies with Mikes. They'd be the perfect two.

If I wasn't in school, Belleville would chant and cheer in happiness. New clubs would commence, the teachers would actually smile, and I can already see the principal throwing confetti in his office. Pop music blasting the school, sending kids into a trance of excitement. Everyone would raise their hands in the air, and sing a happy song of some sort.

All of this...it could happen. If only I were to disappear.

One step. One choice.

I take a step."

Wait a fucking second. This is all too familiar to me.

I leave the school with one throbbing question in my mind.

Who?

Notes

new chapter! c:

*dun dun dun* o: who done it?