I could hardly believe the news when it finally came; the wait had been a long one. I had almost forgotten the feeling that comes from receiving good news. Barely containing my joy, I ran inside to inform my elder sister. I just received a full scholarship to study at one of the most prestigious Secondary schools in the state! My sister and I danced all night, as I waited in expectation for this phase of my life.
As I held the letter, I could not help but take a short trip back memory lane. My mother had died after a long and painful battle with kidney failure two years ago. While I was devastated by her death, I knew she was in a better place. She always believed that heaven was a home with no suffering, and I was certain she had finally gone home. Unable to cope with life after her passing, my father joined her three months later, after a drunken escapade where he crashed into an electric pole. He died on the spot and left me and my sister orphaned. Getting the scholarship meant I could finally pursue my education that had been put on hold.
To say my first day of school was not great would be an understatement. I noticed immediately that things were different, way different than I was used to. The seniors were ruthless and making fun of people was the order of the day in class. I was an easy target for their jokes and bullying because of my weight. They teased me mercilessly at every point; each taunt chaffing away at my self-esteem. I began to hate the mirror. Since I didn’t have money for new shoes or uniforms, mine wasn’t as shiny or classy as theirs. And they invariably made fun of me as we marched to our classes after assembly.
I learned to steel myself against their jeers, and plaster a fake smile as I walked past. But who was I kidding?! I was hurting with no one to talk to. My sister was working menial jobs to feed two mouths and ensure we were not forced to sleep on the streets. Burdening her further with my paltry issue would be heartless. So, I took it in stride until my third year. That was the tipping point for me and I spilled to the Head Teacher. My tormentors were publicly punished and it made me feel safe.
My world was finally getting sane. Or so I thought until I started receiving death threats and expensive pranks. The fear returned a hundredfold. My concentration was shredded into pieces and my results suffered for it. My continuous academic decline further led to the loss of the scholarship. That was the moment I saw my dreams of becoming a doctor go down the drain.
I weep as I pen the note to my family, explaining it all. I cannot take it anymore; the pain has made a home in my heart and the world is too cruel for me. I want no more of it. I tie the rope, check and confirm its sturdiness, then climb the stool and slide my neck into the noose. I tug and then suddenly feel my airways constrict as I kick the stool away. There is a world of pain but it is so brief. Soon, I see the shadows start to close in on me. Just one more tug…and then silence. Oblivion.
…
Fiona was my best friend and sister, the kindest soul I had ever had the privilege of encountering. I was the one who discovered her suicide note; evidence of the termination of a life whose worth was immeasurable. She was only fifteen. The concluding words blurred my vision as they read:
“Sis, I hate being called Flabby Fationa or Rotundona by my classmates. All I ever want is to be called Fiona. Is that too much to ask? I cannot silence the voices of their taunts anymore. Despite my pleas, they never stop. I have to choose this path, one that will finally end the pain. Don’t cry for me, I will be in a better place. I love you always”.
How could she ever think that leaving me alone in the world was a show of her love?
Holding her favorite flowers as I stand by her coffin, I wish more than anything she would open her eyes and smile at me one last time. I have cried all the tears in me. As the song “If I die young” drones on, all I can think is that her death could have been avoided. If only kind words were used in place of hurtful comments, threats, and wicked pranks! I swore right there to be an advocate against bullying of any kind. That will be Fiona’s legacy. As long as I live, her painful death will not be in vain.
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Love,
Diane.
