It's right after school, and Annaise Walker is on her way home. Her worn out sneakers that were ten sizes too small for her make her feet sore; the holes in them allowed sharp things to impale her bare feet. She wore no socks, as her parents didn't want to waste any more money than needed to on her.

Her mind is whirring with the story she'd read and heard about yesterday. If I were to be hanged, she wonders, I'd choose to be hanged from just an ordinary tree, or one hidden from the public's eye. Perhaps one deep in the forest, so I wouldn't make a fuss. She shivers in revulsion. Oh no, she would never want to create more trouble than she already believes she has done.

She keeps her head down so that people wouldn't stare and whisper about her. It's a habit. But then, she sees something sparkle in the corner of her eye that makes her tilt her head upwards again. It's a shop's sign.

Billy Joan's Authentic Nautical Home and Outdoor Decor For People Everywhere and Anywhere.

Annaise almosts giggles right then and there. What a funny name for a store, she thinks. And how abnormally long.

She decides to investigate this shop.

After all, why did it matter to hurry home? Neither of her parents would be home; they'd probably be at some bar or club, partying with their friends. And even if one (or them both, but that would be rare) were home, they would lecture her, despite if she were early or not. She decides to take a chance, just this once.

A bell hanging from the top of the door frame jingles as she pulls the door open. She cautiously walks in. Her eyes fall onto beautiful sculptures of mermaids and aquatic animals. She sees a whole yacht sitting proudly in the right corner. Annaise ventures further into the shop and closer to the magnificent sailboat. Her hand grazes its hull, which is painted the color of dried blood.

Annaise is familiar with that shade.

"Hello?" and elderly, male voice calls out. "I heard the bell ring. Who's there?"

Annaise raises her hand and waves it around until the man sees her, and when he does, he gags. "Oh my Lord. Are you okay boy? Come here, come here." He beckons her over with one wrinkly and white-haired hand.

"Excuse me sir," she responds politely, "my name is Annaise Walker, and I am not a boy. I am also perfectly fine regarding my health. But thank you for the thought." She puts on a smile in hopes of gaining a friend.

"Yeah, you are most definitely a boy. Lad, I may be old, but I ain't senile." He laughs a booming laugh.

Her insides clench, and her hopes are crushed.

"Alright then mister, you got me," Annaise says in a deeper voice. If I pretend to be a boy, maybe then he'll let me stay a while, she thinks. "I was just looking around for my folks. They've been meaning to get new furnishing for the house."

The old man raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Woah there son, your speakin' is quite good."

She nods her head in a thank you. When she bobs her head back up, Annaise catches a glimpse of something even more wonderful than the yacht.

It's a thick, twisted rope.

"Sir," Annaise blurts out. She instinctively bites her tongue for speaking out, but when the man doesn't say anything, she continues, "Can I get a closer look at that coil please?" Her finger points to the rope, sitting innocently on a blue and white striped chest.

"Yeah, sure kid. You can take it for free if you want; it's been collecting dust for a while now." He turns and gives Annaise a toothy smile. "I really wanted to get rid of the old piece of junk."

She returns the smile and jogs over to the chest and gingerly picks up the rope. It was thick, maybe two or three inches wide, and it was fairly long. Annaise grins to herself. Perfect, she muses.

"Have a good day mister."

"Wait, boy! I haven't even gotten your name."

"It's Jovan," Annaise lies, "Jovan Siegel." It was the first name that had popped into her head; after all, Jovan has been her crush since she first laid eyes on him, which was when they were three-years-old. Their parents were friends.

"Look at Jovan, Annaise," her parents would say, "Why can't you be like him?"

The old man smiles again, showing his chipped, yellow teeth. "Well I'm Billy Joan Smith. But you probably knew that from the sign." He throws his hand in the direction of the store's sign. "You can call me Bill though, if you'd like. I prefer Billy Joan, but it's all dandy if you wanna call me somethin' else."

She shakes her head. "Billy Joan would be fine for me," she assures, with a final wave, "Have a good day then Billy Joan."

"You too Jovan."

And as Annaise hears the doorbell clink behind her, she thinks that yes, she will have a wonderful day.

Ten minutes later, Annaise had walked home, and the house had been completely empty. This makes her walk with a joyous lift in her step. Now no one would be here to disturb her. She prepares the rope. She keeps the news article with the picture of the hanged girl in front of her as a reference. Annaise squints hard to see the rope intricately tied around her neck. The knots had looked simple enough, if you looked closely. Indeed they were. In only ten minutes, Annaise had fashioned herself a noose.

She then goes outside. Annaise can spot the headlights of her father's car advancing down the road, and her heart rate picks up. It's now or never, she broods. She sprints across the road, looking like a common deer prancing on the edges of the woods. Her father doesn't spare her a second glance. Annaise lets out a relieved sigh she hadn't realized she'd been holding and treads a little bit deeper into the forest until she finds a tree suitable enough for her. It looked just like the others, only this one seemed sadder in a way. Its branches drooped down towards the earth and its leaves were more of an ashen color than the rest. Annaise, however, thinks this tree was the best in the woods for her.

The other girl had hanged herself on a beautiful cherry blossom tree. Its petals fell on her elegant face, enhancing her beauty. Somehow, that girl made her death beautiful, gorgeous even. Annaise didn't like the idea of that, not one bit. She thinks that death shouldn't be covered in such an attractive veil. Annaise pictures death as a haunting corpse, hanging dead during the darkest moment of the night. She pictures it as, well, like the horror movies do. She ties the end of the coil to the branch above her. Annaise had been daydreaming about this for a while. She'd wanted to live that moment in her dreams, and now she could. She was mere footsteps away from what she'd wanted. She was almost free.

She jumps, and her overly large and revolting fists grip the loop. Her arms strain to pull her face to her already clammy hands. She sways there for a few seconds, waiting. Oh shush; don't be such a baby, she angrily thinks to herself. Without second thought, Annaise shoves her head into the noose and let go of her hands.

Instantly, her breathing stops and her hands fly to her neck. Her feet kick violently under her. No, she thinks, frightened. No, no no, this isn't what I wanted. This is terrible. No, I can live through this. Please no. I don't want to di-

And that is when her heart stops and her body goes limp. She couldn't undo the mistake she'd made.

Annaise Walker is dead.