I had a hundred reasons to kill myself; only one to stay. That reason, as little as it was, as minute in comparison to the long list of reasons why I should, kept me pushing through until I couldn't. Until I had enough of the laughs and whispers that followed me down the hallway, the brushing of one of the athletes groins against my butt and their wandering hands up and down my waist before I could break free of their grip and out of the school. Until I could no longer go home an feel as though it were my safe space; away from all the unnecessary high school bullying that had intensified over the week following the posting of the video. Until every time I stopped and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I had to drive a razor blade along my thighs to keep from screaming.

That one reason had big blue eyes hidden behind black Harry Potter style glasses with the cutest, toothless smile. The reason gazed up at me with adoration, even when I didn't deserve it. That reason was so oblivious to the world and how cruel it could be that it broke me even further. I prayed every day leading to my attempt that he would never have to experience what I did. That he'd be able to slip through high school unnoticed, or even better, popular and at the top so he didn't have to worry about being the scum at the bottom. I hoped that he would never be as heartless as those kids though, preying on the nobodies until there was nothing left of them.

No tears left to cry. No cares left to give. No hope left to live for.

My father told me before he died that I was his reason for living. That every breath he took, every day he got out of bed, was so he could see the smile on my face early in the morning. Then, he'd said, he'd feel complete and it'd give him the motivation to continue on through the day.

My baby brother had been mine until he wasn't. Until even his contagious laughter and adoring looks weren't enough to keep me from cutting, to keep the suicidal thoughts at bay. He wasn't enough motivation to keep going; I couldn't. I wouldn't.

Because within that house, though it harbored a beautiful, innocent little soul, it also housed a malevolent one. A tall, bitter, soul with eyes so empty and lacking emotion that it physically hurt to stare into them. With hands so rough that they continued to choke and hit me even when he was no longer there.

They were two sides, a balancing scale dancing back and forth, that ultimately ended in the evil winning.

The night of my attempt I had held my three year old brother's head on my lap and sobbed as I ran my fingers through his blonde ringlets for over an hour before I'd apologized repeatedly and left his room, closing the door shut behind me and locking it to ensure he wouldn't be the one who found me the next morning. I had stopped by my mother and stepfather's room, wanting desperately to wake them and hope they'd read the thoughts in my head before I could act on them. Instead I pulled their door shut as well and finally reached the bathroom at the end of the hallway, opposite of their room. It didn't take long to find my mother's pain pills, I'd watched her enter the bathroom to take one every morning for the last two years.

When I looked up from the pile of pills in my hand and stared at my reflection in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself anymore. I wasn't Marley, but the shell of her. She wore my face, had my memories, but I was no longer the same girl I'd been the day my mother and Rodger had brought Xavier home.

I had started the water then; my Mom wouldn't think anything of it. I had taken baths in the middle of the night since seven years ago. They were soothing, always helped me clear my head. Only now they'd act as a Plan B. If the pills didn't take me out, drowning would.

I wouldn't have to be here anymore. Clutch at my chest in hopes the aching empty hole where my heart used to be would fade. Wouldn't have to turn every corner and be met with the same dark eyes that'd killed me long before my attempt. I would be free of the pain, of the aching, of the hell I'd been living in.

Because those voices in my head, they always grew stronger with every passing day. Those voices won't leave me alone. And the only way to quiet them?

To kill myself.

Make it as though I never existed at all.