Stalker Diaries by R.J McIntosh (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

The metal gleamed in the dull lamp light, the stainless steel handle begging to be held. My eyes caressed the blade, the mere thought of the power it held over my life was intoxicating. A single slash down my wrist and it was over. A thrust through my heart and I was finished. Yet, why haven’t I done it? I could always feel my hand reaching for it, searching for it, but never fully have I held it in my grasp. It felt like every time I’d attempt to take it there was some invisible force, a wall, preventing me from holding it. Why did I want to stay here living such a meaningless existence?

A little tune could be heard in the background, bringing my attention away from the blade and onto the cellphone that rested on my neatly fixed bed. Who was texting m- … Oh, I get it. Unlike before, I picked up my phone, not a knife but something that cuts just as deep. Sliding my thumb down my Samsung Note 4’s home pad, a message popped up from an unknown sender. My mind wandered. Should I read it? The answer seemed quite obvious, I should just delete it. The tune then played once again accompanied by multiple vibrations all from unknown numbers. I knew what they were, yet my curiosity got the best of me as I clicked the envelope that laid hidden behind the small blue planet. Written was only a single word.

"Die". I read it so many times waiting for that "Jk" I knew would never come. The next one was from an 832 number that read," why are u still alive charles you should just go kill urself bitch." The next "no one likes you! D:<" and the next," Ur Gruss." Wait. Did they just write "Ur Gruss"? I could feel a sense of dread come over me, but then after having read them a sudden burst of air jumped from my lungs and out of my mouth. I was laughing. Does one normally laugh when their life was threatened? I doubt it, and to be honest I was quite terrified, but their grammar was just too funny to overlook. I was the one that felt bad for them. Air wouldn't stay in me as each time I inhaled I quickly released it back out in another unrefined burst of laughter. Did they seriously write "Gruss"? Didn't they mean Gross? If they wanted to me to die they could at least send the threat properly!

"What's so funny?" Mom asked, lumbering up the stairs.

Oh no, the knife! I dived for the handle, sliding it underneath all my notebooks in the first drawer of my mahogany desk, slamming the drawer shut. A creaking noise notified me that she was here, her ebony hair entering before she did.

"Charles what's so ... Boy you're a mess! Your hair is all messy and your school uniform is just, Jesus!" she scolded.

I simply nodded to show I understood ending off with a grin not wanting to prolong the conversation. She stood there for a moment examining me, her crystal blue irises crawling all over me as if they were searching for something that wasn't there. Mom stuck out her bottom lip, a thing she usually did when she thought something was wrong. A Mother's Intuition she called it. My heart began to thump wildly inside of my chest, my hands pressing against it in a futile attempt to muffle the sound. Does she know? She couldn't have. My thoughts raced, theories popping up from left and right, half of them making completely no sense.

"I came here to tell you to keep it down. Your dad just came back from work and he's sleeping right now, so don't wake him up." she paused waiting for me to affirm that I was listening.

I nodded in agreement, unable to speak due to the fear of her hearing the crack in my voice. She then continued, “Well meet me downstairs in 5 or you won't have time for breakfast before we leave." With that she gave me another reminder to make myself look presentable and left down stair, closing the door behind her. I fell. My legs giving out from underneath due to the pressure creating a loud thud. Luckily she didn't hear it, much to my relief. I didn't want my heart rate to increase when I finally got it to go down. The thumping slowly receded back to it's normal rhythmic beat.

Clenching my fist, I could still feel the phone resting in my hand, a single click of the home button and the screened brightened revealing the numbers "7:10 A.M" in big bold white numbering. Shit. School started around 7:45, and living about 15 minutes away, not including traffic, breakfast didn't seem to like a viable option. Well, would it be such a bad thing not to go? I mean, judging from the lovely text messages I received earlier, I don't think I'd be missed very much. It dawned on me that everything was a simple choice. Do I want to live do I want to die all rested upon a single factor, me. No one else mattered in the long run. I pondered the thought, tossed it around until it deflated and blew into the realm of "reality". I couldn't do it. The reason behind it; my cowardice.

Pushing myself off the ground, I tidied up my shirt, patting down the creases and waves that swept across the black fabric then moved on to my hair. I walked towards the hallway bathroom, my footsteps silent trying not to make any unnecessary noise. Dad was sleep. Had to keep quiet. Having successfully stalked into my bathroom, I gazed upon myself in the mirror, my reflection yelling at me threatening to break the glass. Mom was right, I do look a mess. Strands of dark brown hair stood up like rocks under a waterfall, all that was missing was the water. My eyes were bloodshot, the two blue irises accompanied by large dark bags grew under them something that Mom would call knock-offs of Prada and Gucci as they were big, but not wanted. I couldn't help but laugh at the boy in the mirror. A smile. That wasn't something you see every day, and I knew I wouldn't be seeing another one until the end of the school year, if I make it that long.

Turning on the faucet, I doused the top of my hair with water, flattening the stray brown cuticles that tried to escape, each putting up a struggle but eventually failing in the end. It didn't take long to "fix it". Well it didn't look particularly too bad. Okay it wasn't the best, some parts of my hair began to frizz, others obediently falling where they were supposed to. In the end, I put gel on it to keep the hair from sticking up, my bang swinging above my right eye, hair resting upon my shoulders. Checking for any loose ends, I quickly brushed my teeth at the sound of my mother calling me down stairs, it being already way past 5 minutes. I almost gagged myself to death in the blitz. I rinsed my mouth, took a quick leak, and left the bathroom, my mom staring angrily at me from below.

"Boy do you know what time it is." she asked, her voice hinting that it was pretty late.

"Uh, seven twenty-sixish maybe?" I guessed, receiving a knock on the head for providing the wrong answer.

"Bzz! Nope, it seven thirty. You're not going to have anytime for breakfast, so if you want you can take the plate with you and eat in the car." she advised.

I was unsure whether I should eat, and knowing what today had in stored for me, I took the toast and a single sunny side-up egg and shoved it in my mouth. The flavors intertwined with one another creating an incredibly delicious combination, the taste making me want more. Sadly there was no time for more thanks to yours truly, so I had to be content with the single toast and egg breakfast. Throwing on some black converses to go with my black jeans, I hurried outside the door, Mom rushing me out the house like a drill sergeant running a soldier through a training field of mines.

"Hurry up! You're taking too long! Get in the car Charles!" she demanded.

I entered the large gray Tahoe through the passenger seat up front, the oddly shaped hula dancer coming into my field a vision. Why does she have this here? It always baffled me to see such a deformed Hawaiian girl with caramel skin, white splotches where the paint chipped, a broken arm, and a half a skirt swinging lazily on her side shaking at what it's best could be considered doing the whip, and that's if you looked at it from a certain angle. I tore my eyes away from the gruesome sight, the slamming of the door along with the rumbling of the car signaled that today had just begun.

We drove for a while, my mind conflicting with earlier decisions as I played with the tips of my hair. With each stop sign we passed I could feel my heart dropping, having hit the ground hard and still diving downward. Mom noticed the frown that had come over my face, patted my shoulder in reassurance.

"Charles, don't be scared. It's your first day in high school, look excited for me." she said happily, the gloom I felt from her smile rose.

"You'll make lots of friends kid, I know you will." she finished, a forced smile tugging at my lips.

She found great pleasure in it, patting my head once or twice before returning her attention back on the road. The smile faded while the fear remained, growing and growing until I could feel the hairs on my arm sticking up. Mom didn't know. If she did, she wouldn't say all these things, no one knew. Each day something new, something old, something the same, and these somethings didn't fill me with glee.

If she knew she wouldn't sit there with that stupid grin on her face as she did now. If she knew she wouldn't be dropping me off today. If she knew . . . she would have to feel the same pain that I felt, and that's why she couldn't know. I wouldn't allow it. It was my life that was fucked, not hers. Staring at the beautiful lady before me, she was too good to know what was happening, and in all honesty deserved a son better than myself. I felt the need to thank her, but as always, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My mouth opened, but closed knowing that if I were to say something like that would only cause her to worry. So, I kept my mouth shut, like I did everything else. Coming to a stop, my eyes widen at the large building before me, the words "Reveres High School" sprawled across the front of the school in red weirdly shaped letters.

"Have a good day sweetie." she cooed, planting a kiss on my forehead before shooing me out so she could head to work.

I reluctantly got out, swinging my backpack over my shoulder, my feet feeling like lead with every step I took. Turning back, there was nothing but a cloud of dust as Mom left, her car nowhere to be found. Looking in the direction of the building, my eyes watered, my throat burning, tasting like the undigested egg and toast that I had just consumed. I gulped down the massive amount of saliva in my mouth, managing to keep my food in my stomach where it belonged. Feeling another wave of sickness I gagged, tears falling from my eyes.