Broken Glass

A Story by STELLA72

I'm Common. Useless. Harmful. Why would you cry over me? This is for the best.

I stood there on the cliff, looking down at all the rotten skeletons that waited for me. I felt so miserable, but at the same time, I was relieved that I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. I looked up at the clouds, one last time. How could something so beautiful as the sky exist at the same time as ugly humanity?

"Wait!" a voice yelled, footsteps following. I turned around to see a familiar face. She was huffing as she raced towards me. I stood there with a blank expression on my face, watching the panting girl. "Please don't!" she cried.

She reached out for my arm, but I quickly stepped away. She fell to the ground, tears pooling on the rocky cliff that stood beneath them.

"Why does it matter to you?" I said sternly, having no mercy in my voice as I glared at the pitiless girl. "You're just wasting your time on me like everyone else."

"Because I care!" I could see the sorrow in her eyes as she looked up at me.

"Yeah, but no one else does." I showed no emotion, no sign that I was even affected.

"I care, isn't that enough!"

"Enough to stop me?" I asked, my voice colder than ice. "Not a chance. I'm sorry it has to be this way."

"But it doesn't have to be!"

I took a small notebook out of my pocket and tossed it in front of her. She looked at it as if afraid it would bite her. I stood there, waiting.

"Everything I've been through is in there." She looked at me for a moment, then picked it up slowly. Hmph. "Read it over my dead body."

"Please, don't do this!" she gasped, reaching out again.

I turned away, but as an afterthought, I reached back into my pocket and pulled out a kazoo. "The only thing that kept me going for so long," I said as I tossed it in front of her, "Or rather, what it signifies. What it could've meant. But I'm broken. I'm too sharp, and I don't want you to get cut. That won't be a problem, anymore. Now you'll be safe." I looked back, and I smiled.

Then I jumped off with no regrets. "NO!" she screamed after me.

But it was too late.

...

Even as I saw the ground rushing toward me, I had to wonder. Why cry for me? I was nothing special. Common. There was nothing I had to offer. Useless. And when she tried to get close to me, I only caused her pain. Harmful.

I needed to be discarded. I was only Broken Glass.