Excerpt from the diary of Jennifer Lucille Warren. Undated.

Suicide Attempt #1

Horrid. Apparently an overdose of unlabeled motion sick pills sent over from your loving aunt do nothing other than give you a very bad stomach ache and fainting spells. Am now labeled weak along with skanky. Peachy.


Found out they were ginger pills, apparently. Unfortunately, there isn't anyone who's died from it yet.

Breath stinks.

Suicide Attempt #2

Highly uneventful. Snuck to the top of the roof, got caught by the janitor (who was smoking skunk-smelling cigarettes, also known as weed) and we both agreed to look the other way. He thought that I was up there to smoke too, and offered me a joint.

Also found out I'm afraid of heights. Or imagining the splatter noise and awkwardly placed broken limbs. Either way, jumping will not be the cause of my death.

Also found out that the janitor is pretty fun to hang around. Very well-read.

And that I am extremely pathetic.

Suicide Attempt #3

Attempted slicing my wrist, but could only bare to make a scratch on the surface. Am squeamish when it comes to imagining pain, apparently. Maybe water will help. Water is calming.

For the first time in his life, Reid Garwin hated communal showers.

It was fun for the most part; a little black flash of his eyes and he could see through the walls to what he commonly referred to as heaven. But when he just wanted to take a quick shower, nothing special, he really missed the private baths that his own home could offer him.

But when he not only has to shower off the humiliation of his situation (spilt beer and broken glass) while hoping that no one particularly rat-like sees him and rats him out to the dean, but deal with said humiliation (being kicked out of Nicky's when he just wanted to get drunk off his ass) he sees some crazy chick who took a wrong turn and ended up on the boy's side being pelted with water, a razor in her hand, and still in her uniform. She could at least be naked.

And she's decided to graffiti the wall behind her, too.

'Fuck you all,' The wall says in an electric green.

He reads it aloud. The potential of humiliation being directed towards someone other than him tonight was overwhelming, and pays no mind to the shocked girl staring at him and shaking.

"All of you and your vapid, selfish popularity contests disgust me." He continues, noting that even though it was a suicide letter, the girl had flawless penmanship, "Your bitchy socially aggressive cutthroat behavior sickens me, and I would rather die than spend another day choking on the scent of all your gaudy whorish perfume." He laughs, appreciating the humorous insults regardless if that was the intention, before continuing on.

"And for you men. You stupid, stupid men. I hope you're pretty fucking pleased with yourselves. A notch on your bedpost is now dead, pining away after you! All you nameless, insignificant men must view this as a big fucking ego boost.

"Fuck you and fuck this life." He snorts.

"Who the hell are you!" The girl is shaking out of rage, apparently, and she throws the marker responsible for the suicide letter at him. He catches it with an ease that further infuriates her.

She takes a deep breath and her expression morphs into one of disdain rather than panic. She toys with the razor in her hand casually, her fingers dragging along the edge yet not cutting her. He's a little curious about her.

"Oh, I know who you are. You're one of the sons of Dipsticks."

He breathes a little laugh. He was expecting someone meek at first glance. But she's glaring at him, still toying with that razor as if at any second she would lunge at him with it, and he's more curious than before. There weren't that many psychos in this school worth noticing.

"It's Ipswich, actually. Nice to know you're as cultured as you are cheerful."

"Fuck you." She sneers.

"Ooh, feisty!"

"Shouldn't you be at the celebratory bonfire with all the brain dead girls flocking to you after your big win?"

He doesn't bother telling her the truth. That instead of the bonfire, he went to Nicky's, took some beer from the back (after leaving a wad of cash in compensation) and got thoroughly drunk, starting a drunken fight and getting kicked out.

The truth isn't as fun.

"Nah, I thought I'd stay here and kill myself. Hey, mind letting me use that razor after you're done with it? You don't have AIDS, do you? Guess it won't matter, though."

"Fuck you!"

"If it'll make you feel better. Really, you have to work on those insults. Is that your catchphrase or something? Maybe that's why you're about to kill yourself. All those whores and stupid men got you verbally trumped."

"You..." She laughs bitterly, "Know nothing about me."

"I bet." He laughs, much more lighthearted than her, "I bet you don't care at all about the people you spent the majority of your suicide rant complaining about. And that you aren't just filled with a big fucking bag of angst, right? What's your story. Your momma didn't hug you enough as a kid? Did the girls pull your pigtails a bit? I bet the guys never called back, did they."

"You are really getting on my nerves." She hisses, and throws the razor to her side in anger. She's too pissed off at him to kill herself tonight.

He half expected her to throw the razor at him.

"Aren't you going to use that? Pussy."

"What the hell is your problem? No one fucking asked your fucking opinion on any of this, so why don't you just back the fuck off!"

"Well fuck me!" He laughs again.

"Is there any real point to this?"

He pretends to think for a second. It's been awhile since he's teased somebody like this. Who knew it would be some suicidal chick in the boy's shower stalls.

"Not really, no."

"Then fuck this."

She stalks away, pushing past him and not caring at all that her clothes were sopping wet. Can't get a moment of privacy. It was disgusting.

He finally takes his shower, humming a little tune under his breath.