I Love Being In My Room

I love being in my room, no one can hear me cry.

I love being in my room, through the windows I gaze at the sky.

I love being in my room, so pink and fluffy like strawberry pie.

I love being in my room, no one can hear me die...

Ms Rouke stared down at the paper before her in terror. Her mouth hung open as she checked the name at the top of the paper again before continuing to read.

No one knows me, not the real me.

That is somewhat my fault, for I never let them see.

They see my outside, who I choose to be,

But never do they see inside, to get a peek at the real me.

Ms Rouke felt a strange twinge in her heart. She had often thought that no human being could be that truly mean.

But now, never will they have that chance.

Because tonight, tonight I will use the lance,

Formed from all their taunts and that stolen glance,

And behold, I shall dance my final dance.

Ms Rouke inhaled sharply as the point of this poem finally got to her. Still she fought the growing urge to drop the poem and run, forcing herself to read the last stanza.

So here, on this first night of advent,

I choose to ascend, or to begin my descent,

With my back unbent, I speak my final lament;

This has truly been the summer of my discontent.

Tears fell on the page as Ms Rouke focused on the last verse. She thought she had processed the meaning of the poem but she was wrong. She stood there, staring at the page before her blankly for over five minutes before her mind managed to fully comprehend what this student was talking about. She had been handed this homework not five hours ago just after the final dismissal bell had rung. It took her a moment to make any movement at all, she was still too shocked at the thought of this particular student doing such a thing...

That moment passed fleetingly and as soon as she was free of its spell, the first thing she did was to foolishly let the paper drop to the surface of her desk. Less than a second later she was up, out of her comfortable leather cushioned chair, grabbing her coat and bag out of the corner. She ran out into the dark night and ran round the corner to the teachers' parking lot. In the dark she usually wouldn't be able to tell her car apart from the others but tonight, there were no other cars. She allowed herself to feel shock for a moment as she thought about how she really needed a social life.

The lights flashed to show it had been unlocked by her pressing the little button on the key and she wasted no time in heaving open the door on the old car and ducking inside. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned. She was awarded for her hard work with a splutter from the engine.

"Not now, not now," she said under her breath, not even noticing that breath was visible in the cold confines of her car. She turned the key again and again and still all she got was a splutter. She sighed, now noticing her breath was visible inside her car and then again outside her car.

She ignored the chill that was invading her coat and reached out into the freezing air with one gloveless hand, and brought that hand down hard on the hood. Without further ado, she drew her hand back into the warmer climate of her coat and got back into her car, having left the door open.

Once safely inside with the door as closed as it could be, she turned the key again and let a satisfied smile play on her lips as she shifted the gears and pressed her foot to the accelerator.

Back inside the school the janitor walked into Ms Rouke's classroom. He surveyed the room, making sure she wasn't there. He walked to the window as he heard a car's engine start. He made it there in time to see a very determined Ms Rouke pull out of the parking lot as fast as her car would let her.

He looked at his watch and smiled. "She finally let herself off early for once," he muttered to himself. He shook his head slightly and looked around before deciding to leave the room for the morning janitor to do- he did still have the rest of the bathrooms to do...

He walked to the door and reached out for the light switch, not even taking a moment to look over at the papers lying on her desk in an unfinished pile.

If he had spared that moment to look over at the desk, he would have seen the name scrawled in bright pink glitter pen atop the printed page with the title 'I Love Being In My Room'.

But he never even glanced at the desk, so there was no way he could have known that tonight, Sharpay Evans was choosing to end her life.

Should I leave this as it is? Or should I continue it as a story? Please leave me a review of what you think of this story.