Suicide Note Chapter one suicide note "Is Aria Williams here?" Phil, the leader of support group called to the group. I stared up at him with eyes full of hate. "Here," I muttered. "Aria?" He called again. "I'm here!" "Good! To start our first day together, I want to urge to each and every one of you that you are all here for a reason, and that you are all alike." Damn, he's just like the rest. And I had hope for this one to not be as mindless as the others. I have learned to stay clear of the pathetic support leaders who start off their schpeil as he did. "Now, I want you to go back to the time and place that caused us to join paths, and familiarize yourself with that scene," Phil stated, "close your eyes." My mind flashed back to my note. My suicide note. Frickin thing started this all. Damn. I wasn't looking for this, really. I didn't want some glorious death where thousands would come to my funeral, or have my Facebook spammed with messages, I just wanted to be done. I knew my parents would miss me, I guess, but I honestly felt as if I was doing them a favor. I'd wasted countless dollars on medical expenses, I just didn't feel like it was worth it anymore. I scribbled a note saying "bye I love you (blah blah)" and left it in the kitchen. I wanted it to be painless, so I grabbed a bottle of Advil, and stuffed as many into my mouth as I could swallow, and I did. Next thing I remembered was being airlifted to the hospital with my mother next to me. She found the note, and called 911 to save me. "Aria, we need to know what you took. ARIA!" The EMT screamed at me. I felt dazed during it, as if I were high or something. My heart throbbed with each heartbeat. "My baby!" My mom shrieked and cried over me. "I'll give you another minute to replay your scene," Phil said, interrupting my thought. Can't do that now. You broke my thought. I took this time to familiarize myself with the surroundings. I'd be spending my freakin whole summer here, and although I was in Florida, I didn't want to be here. I felt like an outsider amongst the many blondes and brunettes in the room-my hair nearly black, with a blue streak I had dyed myself to match my blue eyes. I could easily tell why each person was sent here. Blondy to my left:anorexia. Brunette to my right: pot addict. Red head across from me: alcohol dependency. Boy with glasses:anxiety disorder. One boy puzzled me, with his healthy looking skin and body, he looked normal, even great. His muscles shown through his shirt, and he looked down at his feet, continuing to imagine his scene. Nope, he was texting. Common case of douche, I decided would be his diagnosis. "Now that your scene is fresh in your mind, I want to pick a partner and share with them your story. And go!" Hope you like it! Chapter 2 will come soon!