leia walked into school, twisting and turning down the hallways that would eventually lead to the classroom. her long brown hair made no difference to her plain appearance, people would still notice that she had a figure of a boy and pimples ravaging her sallow skin. the only thing that would have justified her was her eyes, but she covered these in too much purple makeup, trying to fit in, and so was unnoticeable. she reached for the strap of her backpack and the scratchy stiff wool of her sweater rubbed off of her arm, and a small sound of pain escaped her lips. the cuts were still fresh, and they still hurt.

five hours before, at around four in the morning, she had sat upright on her bed, red polka dots disrupting the stark white of her bedsheets, the mournful words echoing from somewhere in the background: 'her life was more than mine, like a proud star shooting into the night. she crashed through the airwaves and ripped life a knife. it was a bad disease, her searching was over, over.'

she smiled at the all-too familiar words and nodded, soon her searching would be over, over. at the words, 'ripped like a knife', she brought all her courage to her lips in a toast to what had formerly been an existence and ripped a straight scarlet line on her forearm. she smiled at the shock felt on her arm. she knew it so well, maybe a little too well. it was like an old friend, always trustworthy, always around when she needed a comforting hand, always there, ready to forgive should she forsake.

the scarlet beads dripped slowly down her arm and became just some more red polka dots on her bedsheets. she frowned at them, she wanted to remember them, to highlight them in her mind, but there were so many just like them that it was impossible to differentiate. so many instances that she'd wanted to remember, but had been too heedless of the future to even attempt to form a connection in her memory.

none of it mattered anyway, because tonight was the last night, tonight it would end. she wouldn't have to hide anymore, she wouldn't have to sit in the shadows and pretend her problems didn't exist. leia sighed with complete submission. her fate was familiar, remembered on nights such as this: nights when she was sure she could end it, sure her slippery courage would stay with her one last time so she could end everything.

she reached for some paper to write a goodbye letter to her parents. people called them suicide notes, but she didn't. to leave just a note for her parents to remember her by would almost be an injustice in itself: after all they had done for her, she could just say goodbye and leave a hint of blame behind? no, leia couldn't do that. her hand hovered over her tin box of instruments: some long and sharp, some dull, some charred. she picked the thin and pointed needle and pricked her finger, barely even noticing what small pain she could salvage from that. with the issuing scarlet drops she wrote 'leia' at the end of the page and wondered what else to say.

she remembered her parents with love and fondness. they had never been anything but good to her, she had never been crossed, had never been hungry or cold or alone in her home. school was another story. no, i'm not going to think about that, because this is about them and me. not school, not relatives, this is about me and mom and dad. and she wouldn't stray from that idea. held tightly in her mind with a pen held tightly in her hand, she wrote about what she cherished.

memories of childhood, the days when leia had loved life, living and everyone she met. she still loved everyone she met, but could not express these in as happy and carefree a way as she had before. as a child, no one questions your intentions or laughs at you; as a child you are allowed to make mistakes. entering adolescence robs you of this grace. she kept memories pinned at the back of her mind, letting them come whenever she felt like life was caving in and red polka dots would do nothing.

swings in the park where she'd spent most of her childhood. the feel of the sand on her bare feet as they plummeted to earth. hiding in the perfect place and scraping her knees. she even remembered her playmates: ian, who was tall and liked his mom to read him young adult stories. maria, who loved playing games with boys and kept her hair cut short. john, who had been her best friend and had slowed down to run with her when she couldn't keep up. she didn't know where any of them were, and she felt a sudden and strong urge to call them, to tell them she still thought about them in her darkest, most desperate moments.

she almost got up to the phone book, but didn't. they were a million miles away now, if she called them, they wouldn't remember her. she leaned back and brought herself back to the here and now. she held the pen knife in her hand and brought it down to her wrist. it touched her lightly, the edge so slight and small she almost laughed outright: how could something so slight and delicate and weak end so much pain and suffering? she fought the urge to throw it away and curl up on the floor, submersed in tears.

'hold on to the light that guides you, hold on to the air that cools you. hold on, hold on to me.' the words brought her back down to earth, and she could see her friends speaking them. rachel stretched out her arm and tried to reach leia but she was too far gone. leia was falling, slipping down into the black abyss and not rachel, not her parents, no one could save her now. tonight was the night. she had stayed up too long and had spent too many hours planning it to chicken out now. she had to. the blade stayed still on her wrist instead of diving down into her, being pulled away by some magnet.

suddenly, leia knew she couldn't. memories were too much to live for. i'd rather live a thousand times this half-life than die and never remember. and now she could see her mother's face as she saw her daughter lying prone on the bed, rigor mortis not quite having seized her yet, the picture shot its way into her mind and refused to leave. her father slumped on the floor, shoulders shaking but no noise being heard as his daughter lay bleeding on her polka-dotted bedsheets. she shook her head, and moved the blade from her wrist to her arm.

her mood swiftly changed from the one that had saved her, to one that could probably kill her. she dragged the blade slowly and surely across her arm, again and again and again, polka dots raining on her bedsheets. she was mad at herself again, mad that she still couldn't do it, mad that while she had so much to die for, the little that kept her alive was still sufficient to keep her breathing.

when her anger had been released, she sighed, feeling dizzy, and placed the pen knife back into the tin box.
'and then my eyes stretched out, as i saw her hand slip away.' she smiled, glad that she had satisfied herself while not leaving the world. if the world can make music to keep me here and memories to spur my life on, how can i leave now when there's so much more to be experienced? poetic thoughts in her brain, her mind shut down and she lost consciousness to sleep.

walking into her classroom, the fresh cuts made her feel better. they were a reminder of what she had to live for, and why she could not die. the people in her classroom ignored her entrance, but her eyes, lined with purple, smiled and her scarred hand pulled out a tissue. the tissue went over her face, and she was transformed from a plain girl to a beautiful lady. the people in her classroom had no clue what was going on or why, but the room filled with sunshine and she pulled up her sleeves and bared herself, beautiful and gashed and alive.

the end