Bone Marrow *CHAPTER 1* | Teen Ink

Bone Marrow *CHAPTER 1*

April 27, 2009
By Rastafasta SILVER, Goodyear, Arizona
Rastafasta SILVER, Goodyear, Arizona
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

My life is made up of seconds….although my lifespan thus far has a been a total accumulation of twenty seven years. Every second….

Of every minute….

Of every hour…

Of every month…

Of every year….

Every second I am different….

Every second there is change, I am changed. I am forever propelled on this infinite course. My bearing is forward; never back, never stopping, and never-ending. Nothing is known, nothing is certain except death. Death will come. No one can escape it, no one can out run it, and no one can hide from death. This is my life and it’s ending one second at a time.
So, I ask myself why?
Why am I here?
Standing inches away form the edge. Or rather, what is the edge? The edge is a term used to define the end of safety. Safety is the roof of my forty story apartment building in New York. From up here I stare down upon death. Death is hundreds of

All moving, all living their busy little lives going from point A…

To point B…

To point C….

To point D…

To point Z….

Never stopping and never ending. From up here if I jumped my body would undoubtedly fall. I would fall and continue to accel at a rate of 9.88 meters per second until my body reaches the point of terminal velocity where all acceleration would cease. I would continue to fall at terminal velocity until the point of impact at which time, in layman’s terms the laws of physics would take their toll on my body sending pieces in every possible direction as if I was a giant water melon dropped out of a window during a fourth grade science class.

So again, I ask myself why?
Why am I here?
What has caused me to make the conscious decision to end my life early? I mean, I’m going to die someday.
Why not go now, in style?
Why not go now?
Quit while I’m ahead! Is that the right saying?
All the motives are there.
-Abusive alcoholic father….
-mother died on my sixth birthday…
-raped continuously by a sadistic uncle who committed suicide three years ago…
I should jump, for all the right reasons. I wish I was writing this suicide note blaming my uncle or explaining how my mom was never there even pointing the finger at my father who beat me into gory mess for not taking out the trash.
But… not…..

All those things made me stronger. All those things made me into what I am today. Carved out of wood, and molded into steel. I am a stone cold killer and a damn good one too. The best of the best; Top freelancer assassin in the game today number one on the most wanted list in every country. No face, no name, no nothing.
The ghost….
The viper….
Mr. Invisible….
Silent death….

If there were check boxes on the most wanted list I would without a doubt, Check “D” for all the above. Still, this is not why I am here; just part of it. I am here because of a girl. Not just any girl, not just you’re run of the mill average Jane kind of girl.

This girl was indescribable, she was not of this earth, the most beautiful flower of the bunch, an angel sent down by god. I am here because of her. I am here because until I met her I did not feel emotions, I did not know happiness, I did not know joy, I did not know love. I am here because until I met her I was only a tool, a mindless killing machine; used and abused. No heart, nothing beating in my chest, before I met her. And now all I have is an empty broken and shattered heart.

Yes. This is why I am here as you will soon learn; I am here because of this girl. So lets giver her a name, because I have none or rather had none before she came into the picture. I was merely numbered; branded by those who pay me to do what I do. But before I name this girl let me first recollect the events that led up to her. Consider this suicide note to be something like my life’s story.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.