I never made it back to school.

I didn't freaking care because I already knew my life was a train wreck waiting to happen. I was just a leech, sucking onto people and never standing on my own two feet because I was such a freakish coward.

I decided to play hookie and ditch school. It was still raining outside, not that I really cared at this point.

I limped to a park bench and sat there just listening to the sound of my own breathing. It was something my therapist suggested, but I was still ruined.

I started coughing violently as I got colder and wetter. Sitting in the rain isn't very healthly, I thought dryly. I'll probably get sick and die just like my father selfishly did.

After about an hour of this I got up, and started to walk home. I wanted to sleep, that would make things better. It wouldn't really but that's what I kept telling myself.

I stepped out onto the street, there were no cars so I saw no reason to wait for the white walking man to light up on the other side. I was trying to wring out my gray hoodie when it happened.

I heard a loud screech. Something hard collided into my side, and I felt myself go flying.

Then I died.