And there she was, just as her note instructed, hanging from a beam in a near by barn.

    The farm had been unoccupied for a few years and so she’d remained undiscovered, swaying on the end of a rope, for three days and nights in the cold winter air. Rainwater had fallen through gaps in the roof into her long (Greasy! Greasy!) hair until streams ran to the split ends and dripped onto her shoes. There, small puddles formed until no more could be held. When she was found the water was falling twenty feet from her shoes to the dusty floor.

    It was clear what she’d done. She’d clambered up into the hay loft and thrown her pre-prepared noose over a beam, she’d seen it done in films often enough. She wasn’t a small girl (Fatty! Fatty!) which would explain her choice of location. Even if the beam had buckled under her weight the fall onto the hard floor would have broken her neck killing her instantly. If not her neck then surely her back which would be just as good.

    Mom and Dad were in Paris for four days. With a broken back she would have lay in the cold and wet until her shattered body gave up the fight. They’d departed the night before and three days would be ample. She’d planned this for at least three months, nothing could go wrong.

    As she stepped from the loft and felt the air beneath her feet, in the instant before the rope snapped her neck she thought of the note. It was there now, sitting on her desk, a single sheet of pink paper, waiting to be read, waiting to break somebody’s heart, well two people’s hearts. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too sad (How could anybody love you, you’re fat and ugly and you stink!), they could have another child, a prettier child, who would be happier and in turn make them happy. No, she wouldn’t be missed for long.

    The note told all. It named names and pointed fingers but was surprisingly forgiving. It was the work of one with an accepted fate who has no room for hate or grudges for what good will they be on the journey about to be undertaken? There was no hate there, it was to be found elsewhere.

    How could her parents not hate all of the brats that forced her into that barn? How could they forgive all those who taunted her everyday for years until she took a step into nothingness? How could they accept that her delicate neck had been snapped after years of cruel abuse? They couldn’t and they wouldn’t and why the hell should they? The thing they loved most in the world had been destroyed and for what? Answers were demanded.

    The school with its anti-bullying programme and its fear of media attention took immediate steps. Those responsible were suspended forthwith but it wasn’t enough for her parents. They never received their answers as to why their only daughter had been put through hell. Upon receipt of the official school report a short transcript told them everything and nothing.

Mr Atkins: There must have been a reason, the things you did to her as written in her suicide note are cruel and malicious. A life has been destroyed here, there must be a reason behind it all.”

Pupil X: No sir. We didn’t mean it, it was just a joke.