It was just yet another Friday at the same school with the same peers saying the same things to me. I was in Algebra 2, attempting to listen to the teacher lecture us on how to solve inequalities but the boy behind me threw his crumpled up piece of paper at the back of my head. I heard snickers close behind me but I didn’t react. Over the years, I had taught myself not to give these people the satisfaction of a reaction. I’ve been bullied non-stop for five years now but today I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d made plans in my head to end my life when I got home. I thought out every possible thing I could do that would be successful, and wouldn’t fail or keep me alive as a vegetable but the thing about suicide is there’s always a possibility that you’ll fail.
I’d been taught that suicide was a sin, but when you’ve finally reached your breaking point, you decide that you’d rather be a sinner and die than be alive only to be taunted and laughed at every day until your demise. And that is my biggest quandary: I’m a very devout Christian and I had been raised to follow all of the Christian ways. I still attend church to this day, though I’ve only just recently started doubting my faith in God. Where is He when I need Him now? Why is He letting me take my own life tonight? Couldn’t He send me a sign that things will get better? As I asked these questions in my mind, I waited for an answer from God, but nothing happened. That was my confirmation that I should simply end everything now, before it got worse. Sometimes He leaves it to us to take things into our own hands. And that’s exactly what I intended to do.
The bell rang, sounding even more shrill today, and interrupting my plans for tonight. I picked up my books, but just as I was about to walk out of the classroom, Joey Svobado pushed me out of his way and rushed out the door before I could. I recomposed myself and kept on walking with my eyes to the ground. There was the usual congestion in the halls, and I accidentally ran into someone. They turned around. “What the hell? Watch where you’re going, you queer!” He shouted. Everyone around him laughed. You’d think after five years of this, I would be used to it but I wasn’t. Why should any human being ever have to get used to that? I tried to hold back the tears. The same student that I ran into just seconds before then smacked my books out of my hands. They fell to the ground and I immediately dropped to the floor to pick them up. Somebody stepped on my hand, but nobody seemed to notice my distress. No one except one beautiful girl. She crouched beside me in the middle of the hall and helped pick up my books. My green eyes met her blue ones. Her eyes were as blue as the Caribbean Sea and I was lost in them within seconds.  I quickly scolded myself for feeling as such, because I knew no girl like that would ever think anything of the sort about a guy like me.
When we both stood back up, I looked at the ground and mumbled “thank you,” almost sure that her help was a joke or a dare that one of her friends made her do. “You’re welcome,” she said. Her voice wasn’t extraordinarily high pitched, nor low pitched. It was perfectly in the middle. I felt her presence linger, even though the conversation had ended, so I looked up. Her arm was outstretched. She wanted to shake my hand. I took her hand in mine and we shook hands for half a second. “I’m Annie.”
“Izaak.” I started to turn to walk away.
“Are you okay?” she called from behind me. I turned around to face her. Why was this gorgeous girl showing concern for me? Is this a joke? I thought.
“Yeah, fine.” I tried to walk away again, eager to leave before she could tell me that her concern for me was a joke.
“Well I’m great at reading faces and your face doesn’t look too happy. Smile!” She said, with an adorable smile herself. She then walked away, her blond curls bouncing in sync with her steps. As I watched her leave, I grew more depressed. She stole me away from reality for a few seconds, but now it was time to get back to the real world. I walked to second period, never forgetting my plan for when I get home.
I walked into my third class of the day and was greeted by the jocks in my class. As I walked past them, one of the guys stuck out his leg. I’d seen his leg stick out too late, and before I knew it, I fell face-first onto the ground.
“You’re such a retard. Why don’t you just kill yourself?” he said with an almost evil grin. His buddies, and even the girls in my class, laughed.
I said nothing, which they took as a sign of weakness. Eventually I really couldn’t take it anymore and left the room, slamming the door behind me. By this point I didn’t care where, or how it happened, but it was happening. Now.
As I was walking, I searched my bag aimlessly with my hand, exploring my bag looking for the pocket knife that I always kept with me. I looked ahead of myself as I walked so I didn’t run into anyone again.
                When my hand finally felt the hilt of the knife, I rounded a corner and, yet again, ran into someone. I cursed my luck and braced myself for the punch in the stomach.
But there is none. I look up and see that I had run into a familiar face. Annie.
“What’re you looking for in your bag?” she asked, with her head slightly tilted.
“Oh, uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it. I have to go.” I mumble and try to walk to the boy’s bathroom, which is only a few feet away.
“Izaak...what’s in your bag?”
And finally, I just burst. I had never had anyone to talk to, no one who had ever expressed concern for me before. I felt I had to get it all out before I just took the knife and slit my throat right in front of her eyes. “I am so tired of everyone treating me like complete crap! I’m tired of being pushed, shoved, hit, punched and kicked!” I shouted. “I’m tired of thinking I’m worthless, or stupid, or disgusting! I’m—“ But before I could finish, I was interrupted by an embrace. She had to stand on her tippy toes as she hugged me around the neck, since I was a foot taller than her. I hugged her back and the moment lasted only for a little bit, though I hoped it would last an eternity.
“Please don’t take your life.” She said, looking up past my eyes and into my soul.
“How did you…?” I started
“I told you I’m an expert at face reading,” she said with a small smile. “I’ve seen this kind of behavior before, in my best friend. She took her life last year. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her. Every life is important and capable of great things. Don’t give up.”
I was speechless. I could only stand there, looking at her. Finally I was able to utter something. “But..”
“No buts. Are you going to be okay?” She asked with a concerned expression.
“I…I don’t know. We’ll see.” I whispered,
“Promise me you won’t ever end your own life.” She demanded.
I said nothing.
“Promise me!” She shouted. She was the only person in a long time who was shouting at me out of concern, and not anger.
“I promise.” I said.



And that promise is the reason I’m still alive today.
She was right. Every life is capable of great things. My wife and I made three great things that we call Jesse, Christopher, and Elizabeth. Her, and my kids, are the reason I exist to this day. I still, even now, thank her for saving my life all those years ago. Ten years later, my wife and I are just as in love as we were the first moment we saw each other in the hallway, where she helped me pick up my books.