The Truth Behind Dead Eyes.

A Story by Jess Holden

I knew, as much as I hated to admit it, that I would become attached to someone who would keep me from abandonning this place I called Hell, and even helping me survive myself.

*******

It looked quite normal from everyone else's point of view, but I saw it for what it was, and what it wasn't; it wasn't my home, and it was a prison, full of people who wanted nothing more than to hurt me, or find a reason to.

The first few months at Mayfield were hell; I was alone, except for one class, where people were forced to interact with me. I knew from the moment I stepped foot on the school property that I was going to be without friends; I didn't plan on making any friends, and any I did, I knew I would leave them anyways. But the first day, after getting my school schedule and a tour, I walked into my third period class, Drama

******

"Hi!" A girl with red-blonde hair greeted me once I was assigned a spot in the circle of teenagers. A mix of grade 11's and 12's were seated alphabetically in a circle around nothing, with the teacher at the head of the circle.

"I'm Sam," she said, smiling, blue eyes burning nervously into mine. She was shaking slightly, and her face was flushed a deep red, but she had a cute charm to her that was warm and inviting.

"Uh, I'm Jess," I said, trying my best to smile at the complete stranger, who would be my seatmate for an entier semester. I wasn't a very social, and that first class was like having a pinecone shoved in my eye sockets; we had to create special names for ourselves to remeber everyone's names.

It was a stupid practice, which I had fun insulting in my head over and over again every class.

*****

After the first few months, I began to find myself actually looking forward to going to school. I would be up and ready to go well before my bus arrived, and the depression that I had sunk into was slowly lifting; like a heavy weight was being lifted from my chest, I began to feel so free. People on the bus hated me, which I could never understand, but I had a place that felt a little more confortable, and that was Drama.

After getting to know everyone in the room, I got to joking around, making a few friends who were in some of my other classes, and even the girl, Sam, who had my lunch. Eventually, I began having lunch with Sam and her friends, eventually becoming closer and closer with her, and her friends. I found myself happy to know her, and discovering all the things we had in common was amazing, and a relief.

Sam was new to the school too, and loved drama as much as I did. She had a Tumblr, just like me, and loved music and tv shows that not many people even knew about. Before the new year, we began to trust more and more, learning about life and ourselves as we did so.

****

"I'm pansexual," I remembered sitting in a small circle with Sam and our friend Bailea, each of us confessing secrets we had. They smiled and nodded, asking me to explain what that was. Once I did, Sam's head whipped around to me, her mouth wide and eyes wider.

"What?" I asked, feeling slightly alarmed; what did I say?

She smiled and hugged me, "I think I'm pansexual then," she held my hand and smiled, her eyes tearing up. I didn't quite understand why she would be crying over this, but I just smiled back, beginning to talk about our upcoming exam performances.

I knew that after that, something was changing; I could feel it.

***

Exam time came, and Sam and I had become closer than ever, even being teased for being a secret lesbain couple. We laughed it off, but we both knew that they were almost right. By now, she had a wonderful boyfriend named Ryan, who would do anything for her, and a great group of friends beside her, me included.

I had finally began to feel like an important part of someone's life; she'd smile and kiss me in the morning, would vent to me about all her problems, and would give me s**t for missing any school at all. She was one I never saw coming, and one I never thought would be depressed.

The closer and closer we got to exams, I began to notice small changed in Sam; she wouldn't be as bubbly as she normally would be, she withdrew herself from our friendship, and even began to come to school with cuts and bruises. It wasn't until I came into drama and saw her crying, that something was wrong.

That day, she didn't show up to lunch; she was in guidance.

"Leanne," I asked our friend, who was sitting with Sam, both of them red eyes, in guidance, school work covering a whole table. I wrapped my arms around Sam and held her close to me, feeling her crying into my shoulder. 'What happened love?"

Before I got an asnwer, I was shooed off to class by the concilor, and was forced to wait all day to find out.

Sam was diagnosed with depression. She handled it well, learning what to avoid, and to take her medication. She became my hero in a way; she got help, when I never could. We spent the remainder of the semester studying, taking our exams, and going into semester two.

We didn't have lunch together, or any classes. We only got to see one another in the morning and between classes; about half way through the year, however, I missed two months of school, only to return and drop a class to have time with her.

After that, things got worse, however.

May 28th, 2012, I attemped suicide by swallowing a handfull of morphine. I was an inch from death the whole night, and was forced to school the next day. I spent the whole day trying to stay awake and breathing, but it was nearly impossible.

"I'm taking you to guidance," Sam said, as she dragged me through the halls, looking for any teacher that could help us. As much as I knew I needed help, all I could think was please, someone kill me.

We went to guidance, and I ended up confessing about my depression and suicidal thoughts. I made a doctors appointment, and ended up making an appointment at the local hospital.

"I love you, and I need you to be better. If not for me, then for Sam, Dena, Karleigh," Sam said before walking me into guidance.

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Realizing now, at the end of second semester of this new school, which was first my own version of Hell, that I became so attached to a person, I have to say it was worth it. This was worth all the nights spent crying, hurting, and almost dying.

The people I have met this year made me who I am today; I'm free, and I'm on the road to recovery.

So to anyone who bothered to read this, if you or anyone you know is depressed or having suicidal thoughts, please get them help. Whether they want it or not, at least offer it. Show them that it gets so much better. Be the one who changes, or maybe even saves, a life.