I grab my stomach.

His eyes go wide. Finally I see a flash of an emotion besides anger show on his face. He was scared.

He was scared that he'd get locked up.

The cut wasn't even deep. His arm is too weak.

The blood just barely seeps through my shirt.

I don't cry. I don't shout. I don't "scream in pain". I just stare at it, then I look at him.

"I told you so. I knew you wouldn't kill me, asshole."

I storm up the stairs. I take my medicine then wrap my stomach up with a bandage and leave it alone. Now my perfectly good shirt is ruined.

I lay in my bed wearing only shorts and a sports bra. I didn't want to put a shirt on over the bandage.

I lay down and listen to music in my headphones.

(Once again check out the Spotify playlist "Brianna's Bops HLP")

I eventually go to sleep.

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April 17th, Thursday.

I wake up at 3am in the morning to my phone ringing.

The fact that it's my death day has put me in a bad mood. I'd been crying since I woke up. I ignore the phone call.

I go downstairs and make some cereal. I eat it.

Then I grab a bag, and put the remainder of some small items I have with me.

My phone rings again. It's Marcus. I guess he was calling because I told him, Noah, and Kayla I was moving out early in the morning.

"Hello?"

"Happy Birthday Rose. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just moving out."

"You sound like your crying."

"No." I say, wiping my face.

"Oh well, Kayla said for me to tell you to call her."

"Okay I will."

"Okay bye."

"Bye Bad Boy Marcus." I say, knowing that's the last time I'll ever talk to him.

I begin sobbing again.

After my sobbing has calmed, I call Kayla.

"Hello?"

"Hi Kayla."

"Omg Brianna!! Happy Birthday!" She screams into the phone.

I laugh.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah why?"

"You sound sad." She says.

"I'm fine." I lie.

"Are you fine enough to come over real quick?"

"I have to get moved in." I respond.

"Thats fine. Can I visit you when you get to the hotel?"

"Yeah sure." I say.

"Okay bye." I say.

"Bye."

We hang up.

I begin to get dressed in some sweatpants, and a maroon sweater.

After about 20 minutes. There is a knock on my door.

I go and open it.

"Happy Birthday stranger!" The black haired British boy says, smiling once again.

I smile back.

"Eh, no mockery? What's up with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired."

"That's what happens when you decide to move out at 3am." He says.

"What are you here for?"

"Well I can't let my friend move out alone at 3am." He says.

"Did Marcus send you to do this?" I ask.

"Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. Give me some credit every now and then." He says, throwing a wink.

"Okay, well. You do know all of my stuff is already packed, right?"

"Yes. But why are you moving into a hotel?"

"Just to get out the house until I could find a home."

"Well you could've just asked to stay with me. I have an extra room."

"Yeah right." I say, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, I'm not so bad once you get to know me." He says.

"I know." I say, opening the door wider to let him in.

He plops himself on the couch.

"So you're just getting ready in the dark?" He asks, referring to how there aren't any lights on.

"Yup."

"Marcus swears up and down that you're different. Now I'm taking it upon myself to see it with my own eyes." He says, smirking.

"Piercings." I warn.

"There it is. The Brianna that we all know and love."

"Oh so you love me?" I ask sarcastically.

He laughs.

Well he didn't didn't deny it.

I go upstairs and he doesn't hesitate to follow. He doesn't enter my room though. I shut my door.

Finally he has some manners. I grab the suicide note, stuff it in the small bag, grab the picture, put it in the bag, and leave the room. Then we go downstairs.

"Let's get in the truck." I say.

We go outside and then go and get into the moving truck. He gets in too.

"Hey." He says.

"Yeah?"

"Can we get pizza?" He asks.

"Sure." I say.

I drive to the pizza place and he goes in and gets it.

He starts eating.

"Want some?" He asks.

"No I'm good." I say.

"Suit yourself."

We pull up to the hotel and go to get a room.

"Two people?" The guy asks.

"No just one." I say.

He looks at Noah.

"He's just helping me out." I say.

"We hear that all the time and said 'helper' never leaves. Either one of ya leave and get a one person room, or you buy a room for two people."

Noah huffs. He slams extra money on the table along with what I had put on the table earlier.

"Here. Enough for two god damn people. My God, get a life arsehole." Noah snarls.

We get the key without another word and go to room 203.

"Are you putting all your stuff in here tonight?" He asks.

"Yeah. That way I don't have to do it later."

"Let me do it. You can just chill in here." He says.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Positive." He says, leaving the room.

I lay down to rest just as my phone rings. It's Kayla.

"Hello?" I say.

"So can I come over now?" She asks.

"Kayla I'm sorry I'm just really tired. Maybe tomorrow?" I say, knowing there will be no tomorrow.

"Yeah, Yeah. That's fine." She says.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah. I need to stop procrastinating and get some things done today anyways."

We hang up.

I lay down. I hear the door open and shut as Noah comes in and out. Every time he comes in, I ask if he needs help but he says no.

Eventually, all is done.

He comes into the room and shuts the door.

"So whatcha doin for your birthday?" He asks, sitting beside me on the bed.

"Nothing." I say.

"Yeah cuz that's fun." He says, rolling his eyes.

"I just need a break." I say.

"Don't you have school?" He asks.

"Not going." I respond.

"So are you in control of your own life now?"

"Well I'm 18 now." I shrug.

"Too bad it's not 21, otherwise, this would be legal." He says, reaching under the bed grabbing two bottles of wine.

"Thanks." I say as he hands me one.

"Drink up, buttercup." He says, taking a swig.

I do the same before putting it on a dresser and laying down.

"Make sure you wake up in time to go to school." I tell him.

"I will. One more absence and I'm expelled." He says, getting up and dragging himself to the other bed. I cut off the lamp and sleep.

I'm assuming he does the same?

I wake up at 12, sobbing, due to that same nightmare I always have about my mom. I put on some blue jeans and a random t-shirt before leaving in my moving truck. I park a few houses down from Marcus' house in his neighborhood.

I was trying to find the place where I wanted to take my last breath.

I cry as I walk down the street to his shed safe haven thing, hoping he is at school.

I enter the shed and decided that I don't want to mess up his good memories of the shed.

I leave and instead go to my old house.

I want my dad to see what he and the world in general has caused.

When I get there, his cars not there. I go through the front door, using my key that I kept. I had my suicide note in my small purse I carried, along with my box cutter, and a bottle of my strongest pills. And my phone.

I go upstairs to my room. The stairs creek more loudly because of the distant echo from my empty room.

I enter my room. I had left a small stool here. I set the note on it, thinking this is where I wanted to end it all.

After walking around the house, I realize that this house still holds memories of my mom. I've lived here all my life.

I came to the conclusion that I had to take my last breath in a place that meant nothing to me.

The hotel.

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