Notice(rachel) I used to think that it didn't matter if I died. No one would know if I disappeared. So why can't I die? Whenever I put the gun to my head, or the knife to my throat, Why do I stop? If I really don't matter, wouldn't it be easy? So why am I afraid of.....death? I just can't help but...think. Think of the consequences....and the...rewards? Rewards such as getting away from mom. My momma is always drinking. She comes out of her hole once and a while to hit me. Then yell at me. Things like 'If you were never born, my husband would still be here!' Hell, I've gotten used to it by now. I left her screaming and tearing her hair out on the floor. When I walked down my streets to my, 'job', I saw a man who took the beating for another. I despised that man. How could he do that? What motives could he possibly have? Course, back then, I thought that it could only be sick things that the man was thinking about. I met him, only for an instant though. He walked up to me and held out money. At first, I thought he wanted to, 'buy', me. My 'services', anyway. But he simply put it down beside me, and began to walk away. I picked up the money and threw it in his face. Why? Why would a single man give what others call a prostitute, a thief, and a liar, free cash? Why would one man give an unwanted child something this world considered so valuable? Why would one man notice someone who others pass by? He picked up the money, grabbed my flailing arm, and pressed it into the palm of my hand. Then I saw something I have never seen before. A smile. I didn't know. I didn't know what kindness was. What laughter and happiness was. What love...true love, was. Everything became new to me. A world never touched, never explored once in my lifetime. I walked back home, contemplating on what I was going to do with the money. If my momma saw, she would snatch it away to buy more booze and cigarettes. I couldn't spend it at the market because everyone knew my face. I wasn't old enough to gamble. That's when it hit me. What if I go to school? Who knows, if I get out there, I might meet that man again. I have been saving money. Hiding it from my mom to buy something big for myself. This might be it. But then again, what kind of school would let a damned delinquent in? But if I didn't try, I would just be doing the same thing. Running away. And I can't hold my breath forever. If I did commit suicide, some dumb-ass reporter would use my corpse as a story to get his homework done. Why would I give him the satisfaction of putting one more sad thing into the paper? It really does need something to lighten it up. Maybe I could work on that? Then, it's decided. I'll get out of my house, find a proper job, and go to school.

***

I realize now, that if I had died, the world would notice. Perhaps, I too, can bring the thing called joy, to this world. Just like my husband did to me, long ago...

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