Forgotten Soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is about how when depression hits, its hard to go back and how it could have severe consequences.

Submitted: October 31, 2016

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Submitted: October 31, 2016



Vienna Dean



I miss Vienna. Every night I think of that night, the night that changed me forever.


I never wanted to move in the first place. I never wanted to change house. I never wanted to go to a new school. I never knew what was going to happen. I didn’t want to do what I did.


 Il takes you through what happened. I was living fine in London. Had some friends, but real friends, well at least that’s what I thought at the begging. One day my mother arrived, so pissed and angry. I went close to her and asked why she was this way, she told me to get away, she told me she was fine, she told me to not worry, she told me lies. After an hour, my brother arrived home. I when and told him if as he cared. He and I don’t get along well. He is always the perfect boy, all kids love him in school. He’s an A star student. He is the type of kid that always gets everything right, the kid that never study’s and gets A in all subjects. Mom and Dad always tell me to be more like him, less like me. But he is always in his computer. I try and talk to him but he always blows me off, tells me he is busy.  I came close to him and told him that there was something wrong with Mom, he didn’t mind , he told me to not worry. I went and sat in my room. I sat there doing nothing, just sat. I heard the noise of the door from the house, I ran to the stairs, my dad had arrived home but before I could reach the floor from the first floor I heard screaming in the kitchen. Mom and Dad fighting like usual, this time they were fighting about how Dad was always so late and how he never remembers her. And how she wanted a divorce. I silently went up the stairs in to my room and to bed.


The next morning it was the first day of school in my new school. I didn’t want to go. I knew I was not going to make any friend. No one would want to make friends with a kid like me, the weird kid. And I was right; the first day was a disaster.  I got lost all day, arrived late to almost all of my classes. I ate alone in the cafeteria. The firts day of school and the kids from my grade already had a nickname for me; they all called me Vienna the black duckling. They called me this because I was the kid that was left out, I was the kid that everyone forgot about, I was the different one, I was the black duckling.


There was this girl, Gabby, she was he popular, one loved by all living souls, except for one, me. She is the one with the brilliant idea to come up with the nickname, for some reason she hated me, despised looking at me. She made my life a living hell.


Every day after that she made fun of me. Talked about me behind my back. She abused me verbally every day. Every day until she decided to leave me with a bad eye, a black eye. Her and her gang decided to follow me after school, found me and so you can imagine what happened next. Took me to an abandoned street, beat the hell out of me, my clothes were now ruined, covered in my own blood. Laid there for at least an hour. The ground was cold, I could fell in against my cheek. The air was cutting my skin. I could call for help, but there was no one to be seen, who would help me?  Who would hear me? No one. I was alone there, just there. After the hour passed I tried to find my own way home.


Seconds passed, minutes, days , months, and all stayed the same, same life, same people, same bruses. I could not take it anymore. People say that to go you heaven or hell, you need to be dead; well I found out that that was a lie. Every day I was living in hell. Over and over again.


One day I found myself alone at home. I regret what I did that day, forever regret. The pain, the thinking, the humiliation, I could not take it anymore. I didn’t think.


2 hours later my house was filled with police cars, ambulances, news people coming to report what had happened. The police was there to see what had happened, the ambulance to help and try to un do what was done, and the news, there were there to report.


Vienna Dean, a 16-year-old girl


That was the header of all newspapers, news reports, magazines all you can imagine.


I was there ling, just ling. My head was stuck to the floor. My temperature was ice cold. In my hand I had something, blue and red, it was hard, small, all of it was there surrounding me. It was everywhere, the floor, my hands, my inside. All there, all the evidence. That small capsule I never thought that this would happen. How could I have known it was going to cause too much harm? I thought maybe it would make me sick, go to the hospital and maybe recover. I never knew it was going to be this extent. I knew there were consequences, I though I maybe knew what I was doing. There was a little voice inside my head telling me to not do it, telling me that if I did my life would fall, just like ash, diapered in the darkness. But I didn’t listen; now I know that I should have. But in that moment I didn’t.


The police came in too late, if they would have found me sooner, maybe none of this would have happened. I still wonder what would be from my life if that night hadn’t happened. The paramedics came into the room. They rushed in, came with some equipment. They tried CPR, they tried shocks and they tried mouth-to-mouth respiration. None of it worked. They called it, there was nothing to do there, no one to save, my body was ice cold, my color was fading away, my lips were dry, my heart wasn’t pumping any more. I was a body with no breath. They tried to defeat the laws of nature but no one could ever defeat the cold and dark death. They called it Time of death, 11:30 pm.


I will never forget that day. The day I gave my last breath. As I said at the beginning, I miss Vienna. I miss being Vienna. Vienna was my name, Vienna Dean. I used to be her, but now, now I’m a forgotten soul am floating in the middle of no where reliving in my head the night, all that happened, to see where I could have changed my mind, maybe where I could have stopped. Reliving the day that I died. Over and over again.

I tried, but I didn’t try hard enough.


I was Vienna Dean, and I’m a forgotten soul




© Copyright 2018 Maria Ines Villarreal. All rights reserved.

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