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This diary entry is written by sprousecutter. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: The link to the awsome story didn't work, so I will put it on this
in category (general)

The other half of the story because I made It too long.Category: (general)
Friday, 8 December 2006
03:45:20 PM (GMT)
Dr. Brown began to speak to my mom. “Carrie? Here’s some Prozac for Zackary, an
anti-depressant, and a number for a teenage therapist.” I smiled bigger. I
wouldn’t have to see this man ever again. I successfully freaked him out enough to
give me to another therapist.

My mom thanked him gratefully, as if he was doing her a favor, and finally, we got to
leave the psychology building from hell.

“So? How did it go? Did you work out most of your problems?” She embraced me
lovingly. But she didn’t get it. One half hour session wouldn’t enough to get
over depression, not in the least, even if I was willing to talk. If I was willing to
share my emotions with a complete stranger, which clearly, I didn’t. Who would?

My mom and I arrived back at the Tipton, where Mr. Moseby smiled encouragingly at me.
When my mom wasn’t looking, I smiled back, before angrily flipping him off, and
watching the smile slide off his face with apparent shock. As if he’s never been
flipped off before. Please.

I opened the door to my bedroom once back into the suite, and Cody was standing,
holding a basketball and grinning broadly. “Hey Zack! You want to shoot some
hoops?” in a voice clearly rehearsed.

“Hey Cody!” I grinned back. “Move out of my way before I shoot you! You get it?
Shoot some hoops, shoot you?” said in the same fake enthusiastic voice, mocking

“I get it,” he said shortly, before turning away to put the basketball back.

I turned around and left the suite. I couldn’t take this today. I went down to the
lobby, and on my way out of the hotel again (to find John my faithful drug dealer), I
bumped into Maddie, tears streaming down her face.

“Oh Zack! I’ve been looking anywhere for you! I need to talk to you!”

F*** it Maddie, I thought. I cannot deal with this right now.

Chapter Six

“I’ve been looking all over for you Zack!” Maddie sobbed.

F*** it; I cannot take this right now.

“You were right Zack; Jake is a lying, cheating asshole, not worthy of my time!”
She tried to hug me.

“So why are you crying?”

“Oh, I’m not even sure,” she gasped through sobs. “Oh Zack!”

I pushed her back suddenly, despite how good it felt to hold her. “Look, I’m a
rebound to you, I’m not going to put myself into a situation where I’m gonna get
hurt yet again, it’s not worth it.”

“Wait! Zack! I want you, not Jake!”

I snorted. “Right. Because you’re crying of happiness that Jake broke up with

“Well, no… but I realize now that—hey, when did you get so tall? Taller than

“Almost a year ago,” I answered gruffly, resentful that she didn’t notice such
an obvious thing as height.

“And when did your voice get so deep?” She giggled a bit.

“It’s called growing up. I’m not thirteen anymore.” I said impatiently.

She looked me up and down and ran a hand down my chest suggestively. “No, you most
certainly are not.”

I shrugged her off. “Let go of me.”

She snatched at my wrist as a last ditch effort to making me stay. “Stop it,” I
told her. “You’re hurting the cuts on my wrists.”

“What..?” She asked questioningly.

I, once again, rolled up my sleeves angrily answering. “These cuts. But, don’t
worry, it’s okay that you didn’t notice this, unlike something as obvious as my
height. No one noticed about my cuts until a couple days ago. Now f*** off

I lumbered out the door, ignoring Maddie’s shouts. “Zack, I didn’t know! I’m

I’m sure you are, I thought.

But finally letting go the love of my life, is something I’m pretty sure that I’m
NOT sorry about. No matter how much it hurt.


I think Cody and mom made a mistake. They left me in the suite. Alone. With plenty of
knives and extacy. True, they didn’t know about the drugs (underneath a bunch of
socks in my dresser drawer) but they should have known better.

They should have known that constricting me would want me to make me rebel. In fact,
I need my blade right now. I quickly located it’s hiding spot and set straight to
work, pressing firmly on my skin and drawing a solid red line across my wrist, as
though with a marker. Ahh, that’s better.

F*** it! They guard me like some little child that’s done something wrong. They
cringe when I mention the cuts. Just with the thought, I sliced my wrist again. To
spite them. Maybe I’ll let the blood stay on the ground, I won’t clean it up so
they can be disgusted by it tomorrow morning when they’re happily eating their
breakfast and spot the horrible puddle on the nicely cleaned floor.

And you know what? I thought to Cody and mom, and even Moseby. I don’t need help.
Not from you. Not if your idea of help is smothering me with love and care as if
I’m an overemotional abused child that will break if dropped.

F***, I thought. I DO need help. I really do. But I won’t admit it to them, and I
really should clear my head. I turned on Taking Back Sunday on my Ipod, and put it on
“Cute without the E” on repeat. That way, when they found me, they’d know.
They’d know what went on in my head. I turned the volume up all the way.

But I still couldn’t block it out; I still knew that I was in too deep. I was
destroying my life. Suddenly, I was beyond pissed off at myself. Why was I destroying
myself? Why am I messing up the rest of my life? With the thought, I got a hold of my
razor again, and angrily started butchering my wrists, as if punishing myself.

You like that? I thought to myself. You like the feeling of pain? I thought so,
you’re so pathetic, you can’t stand the sight of your own reflection in the
mirror, you’re scared of your future, h***, you HAVE no future.

I am getting tired off fixing the bad words, so I'm going to stop. Sorry!

And suddenly I was crying. Not tears rolling down my face, but full out crying,
can’t think straight bawling. Where the fuck did mom put that bottle of Prozac?
Hell, I needed it, I need to be happy for once. I started up towards the medicine
cabinet, throwing out all the bottles that weren’t the right one, still in a
frenzy. I knew that my cuts were still bleeding, so I left a fair amount of blood…
mostly everywhere. I finally stopped crying enough to remember that it was probably
still in mom’s purse, and sure enough, it was.

I opened the bottle, and thought, Mom thinks I need these pills, does she? So I
wonder what she would say if I took all of them, or at least half. I could be cured.
I shakily poured a glass of water, and swallowed as many as possible.

And then I sat. For ten minutes, and nothing happened. I was still wallowing in my
FUCKING self pity, I was still scared of the future, how I have no hope of being
successful. And I’m a FUCKING FAILURE. failure. failure.

What is wrong with me? I take about twenty pills and I’m STILL not happy. In fact,
my hatred of my own reflection built up. How could I let myself go like this?

How the hell can I just fail all my classes? How can I just blow off Maddie, the love
or my life like that one of the only times she needed me? Why couldn’t I just help
her again, even though I knew that my heart would be shattered in a million pieces
again? Why don’t I feel like it’s alright to cry in front of anyone, why do I put
on a brave front in public? WHY DID DAD HAVE TO DIE? Why did mom send me to a shrink?
WHY AM I SUCH A FUCKING FAILURE? Why did I start cutting? Why did I take extacy?

Well, I knew the answer to the last one. To make me happy. And these fucking Prozac
pills don’t really work, do they? I was riled- how could they think that a little
pill could take all my pain away forever? I flung the bottle of pills against the
room, and it hit the wall, white pills shattering everywhere.

Good, I thought. They’ll have to clean it up. I’ll just watch them and laugh.
Because I can’t seem to do anything right anymore, I’m always messing something

Tears started forming in my eyes but I blinked them back. No, I thought to myself. I
cried once tonight, that’s more than enough. Instead, I grabbed my razor yet again,
and carved my feelings into my flesh in the form of just one word. It felt good, to
look at the crimson letters carved into my arms in all capitols.


Somehow, the cut was special, maybe because it was an actual word carved into my arm,
maybe because it finally showed what I really am, I don’t know. Because that’s
what I am- a failure, no denying it. I started to feel slightly dizzy, whether from
the blood loss or the Prozac pills. Huh, I thought. The pills actually work, imagine

But they don’t work nearly enough, not to me. I fumbled through my sock drawer and
pulled out my trustee Ziploc bag, and took out one of the pills with a smiley face on
it. Some of my blood accidentally got on it, dripping from my cuts. I smiled back at
it. Why didn’t I think of this before? I gulped down three, and stared at my cuts.
They really were getting out of hand, staining everything, blood leaking everywhere.

I let out a little giggle; mom and Cody will have a hell of a time cleaning up my
mess. They’ll be here for hours, cleaning. They should have been here now, when I
really needed them. Just to stop me from myself.

But Cody is busy being so DAMN successful he has no time for helping me. He’s out
with Gloria, his amazing girlfriend. I looked at the bulletin board where a picture
of the two was pinned up, covering some old pictures of me and him. Well, if THAT’S
how it is. I threw down the bulletin board, watching the thumbtacks fly off, some
going on his bedspread. I laughed some more. I vaguely knew that something was wrong,
very wrong with me, but I was too far gone.

I looked up at Cody’s trophy shelf. He had a trophy for practically everything. I
looked at my undecorated side of the room, and suddenly, I snatched the trophies, and
slowly snapped the shiny gold plastic apart on each of the figurines, and smiled
every time I heard a crack of wood. It was such a nice noise, destruction.

Actually, speaking of destruction, I tripped over my own feet, dizzier than ever, the
room spinning, in search for my razor again. I managed to make it back to where my
razor was, right in a puddle of half dried blood, right where I left my Ipod, still
playing “Cute without the E” on repeat. I held the razor once more in my hand,
before gracefully, suddenly, collapsing to the floor, not even aware of the blood on
the ground soaking through my T-shirt. Only one thought was on my mind, and that was,

And they told me later on, that’s how they found me that night when they opened the
door. Destruction everywhere, “Cute without the E” still playing, and me, lying
motionless, blood spilling out of my wrists, still holding my razor, faithful to the


I was lying in bed, my hair all slicked back in a part. Strangely enough, I was
wearing a suit. What the fuck?

I looked around the room, which most certainly was NOT my bedroom. People were
dressed in black and all weepy. I saw Cody all dressed up. Nice suit, I thought to
myself. Who died? I was so cynical, I needed to stop the bad habit.

I tried to lift my head around to see who else was in the room, but for some reason,
I couldn’t. Just then, something caught my eye. It was a bulletin board, full of
various pictures, and the title of it said,


It nearly made my heart stop. But, how could it? If I was already dead? Fuck. FUCK
no. I didn’t want to die. That night, I was out of control, yeah, but DEATH? I’m
only fifteen fucking years old. I was failing all my classes, cut myself, did drugs,
had no girlfriend, but I could’ve changed that. All of that. I could’ve stopped
myself from falling more in depression. But I’m dead. I’m gone. Forever. Never
will I tease Cody, see Maddie smile, get in trouble with Moseby, ignore mom when she
tells me to do my homework. Never will I grow up, get a job, have kids of my own,
actually experience life. Because, I fucking ruined my life. Even in death, I’m a
failure. Good job Zackary Martin.

Moseby was sobbing, muttering words above my head, about how he’ll miss me and
such, but I tried to block it out. I didn’t want to hear it. Not one bit. He
finally left.

Mom came in view over my coffin. Mom. She would think it’s all her fault that her
child died. As much as she hated my smart mouth, and laziness, I was still her son.
And she wouldn’t forgive herself. I couldn’t listen to what she had to say, it
would make me hate myself even more. Tears were streaming down her face, as she
finally kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “I love you Zacky,” and marched
away, still sobbing.

But then, someone else came in front of my coffin, someone a lot harder to block out
than Moseby or even Mom. Cody hovered over me. He touched my hand gingerly, with a
stoic look on his face. He whispered something that took me aback. “Fuck you,

He stood up abruptly and punched the wall right next to me, as hard as he could and
screamed it. “Fuck you Zack!” And then sunk down, crying his eyes out. People
turned to watch when he screamed, when he showed his unbridled sorrow, with pitying
looks on their faces. No one bothered to reprimand him for his language, but no one
comforted him either.

No one hugged him to say it would be alright, or tell him that I didn’t mean to
die. Cody was still crying, but started talking softly so only I could hear. “Why
Zack? Why did you leave us? We were trying to help. We didn’t like seeing you so
unhappy. But you kept pulling back. Why did you fucking die on me? You know I need
you. I always looked up to you. You were the older twin, my other half. How am I
supposed to live, knowing that my only brother died because he wasn’t happy enough
here? With me? Shit, I love you so much, please, don’t go.”

Watching Cody, my baby brother, like this was probably the hardest thing I ever did
in my entire life. Even though, I’m dead now and this technically isn’t part of
my life. I couldn’t hold him and say that it was an accident. Never again would I
be able to wake him up from one of his childish nightmares and make him feel better
from it. No one would. He never told mom about them. So now he would wake up crying,
with no one to comfort him, knowing the only one that could have made him feel
better, left him. And wouldn’t be coming back. Even if I wanted to.

Cody started talking again. “I saw… you had FAILURE written on your arm. In cuts.
I-I think that would have grossed me out even 2 weeks ago, but I see where you came
from, with the cutting. The thought of it doesn’t sound that bad anymore.”

Panic filled me. Not Cody too. My life is gone, but Cody had so much potential, he
had the grades, the girlfriend, he was the nice, sweet twin that people loved. Now
I’m destroying OTHER people’s lives. I’m SUCH a good person. Sike.

“But that’s not what I came to say. I wanted to tell you, you’re not a failure.
No matter how much you thought it, I never did. You were going through a rough time,
but you needed to FUCKING TELL me. So I could help you. Like I know you would’ve
helped me. Mom never saw the word FAILURE on your arm. I covered it up as soon as I
saw it. It would’ve killed her to see that. It nearly broke my heart too. The mess
you made, it took forever to clean up. The worst two hours of my life, knowing that
you were making that mess that night, killing yourself, while I was losing my
virginity to Gloria.”

Way to go, squirt. I thought. Once again, outdoing me in everything. I felt horrible
about the mess I left in the suite, leaving them to clean it up. Cody sighed, the
tears dried up by now.

“Well… I said what I needed to. Fuck you, I hate you, I’m sorry, I’ll miss
you like shit, I love you as much as humanly possible… and...” he choked on the
last word. “Goodbye. Forever.”

He closed his eyes slowly and tightly, and opened them again, as if making sure that
this was reality and not one of his nightmares. Nope, it was reality. The worst
nightmares always were.

Many aunts and uncles I’ve seen twice in my life said how I was such a great kid.
As if they knew me at all. They said how polite I was. Liars. I was never polite,
unless I was being paid to be. They didn’t know me. Why were they even here?

An angel appeared over my head. Finally, I could leave this place of sorrow. But it
spoke. “Zack, I never loved Jake.”

Oh, of course. It was Maddie Fitzpatrick, just the love of my life that rejected me
countless times. I should’ve known.

“I know, you’re thinking that it’s a total lie that I really didn’t love
Jake, but it isn’t. It just hurt me SO much to see yet another guy dump me for a
better, prettier girl. But then, I realized, that you, YOU never gave up on dating
me. You always comforted me, loved me. YOU were the guy I should have been with. At
least now that three years isn’t such a big difference. But I missed out on my
chance. You always helped me, but never once did I help you. I’m sorry, but I need
to tell you or else I’ll regret it forever. I love you Zachary Martin.”

Tears were glistening on her cheeks as she bent down and kissed my cold, lifeless
lips. I didn’t feel a thing. How I WISHED I could feel Maddie’s lips against
mine, how I wish I could tell her I loved her too, but it was too late for that now.
It was too late for everything.

I lay there numbly as they closed the lid to my coffin and loaded me into the hearse,
and finally, brought to my grave, and I vaguely heard the pastor speak some words,
that I’m sure meant something important.

I felt my grave being lowered. Taken away from Maddie, Cody, Mom, Moseby, even
London. Taken away from everyone who could’ve helped me. “I’m sorry” I
shouted in my mind. Maybe they would hear it. I hoped so.

The coffin hit the ground and I felt dirt being placed on top of me. Once icy tear
finally slipped out of my unseeing eyes. This was nothing like life; I found this out
too late. Death is nothing like living. Because here, no one can wipe your tears.


sprousecutter says:   8 December 2006   428581  
I'm sorry that the last one didn't work. Here it is, the last half of
the story!
Lexi11223 says:   8 December 2006   719691  
omg ! u should make up a new ending! i dont think he should DIE!!
sprousecutter says:   8 December 2006   453719  
I didn't write the story.
Lexi11223 says:   8 December 2006   776825  
who did???
sprousecutter says:   8 December 2006   364958  
someone on the fanfiction site with the penname scrivania.
AnyaFrib whispers:   8 December 2006   226383  
doesn't it make you think? think that you should stop. I mean you
could end up like him. I could've.....................
sprousecutter says:   8 December 2006   487517  
I'm not going to die, I'm not that stupid.
MochidasEmu says:   28 December 2006   152643  
Pfft, aye right ;l You may not die but thats a fucking waste of your
MojoHuma says :   6 January 2007   574685  
Omg. . .Cool story.

What fanfiction site was it?

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