A New Angle

One of the most important lessons to learn in life is that looks are deceiving. And if there was ever a girl who proved this to be true; it was Emily. She learnt to never repress your emotions, don’t hide behind the curtain of your appearance. But don’t just take my word for it. Find out for yourself.1

The Upper West Side of Manhattan, New York is for the upper class of society - the rich and the snooty. Emily possessed neither of these personal qualities but went to a school in the Upper West. Although Emily suffered from a financial burden she had won a scholarship in a poetry contest to one of the leading schools, St. Mary Girls High. A particular interest of Emily’s was poetry; though she stopped writing quite some years ago. She was never short on topics to illiterate. Like most great poets, Emily had persevered through a harsh child hood. Her mother was a severe gambler who bet her families life savings of 3 million dollars away to hoarse rasing. She later committed suicide from the situation she was in, leaving her family in their immense dept. As a result to this catastrophe her father resulted to alcohol which brought out his inner anger. It was an occasional custom for Emily to arrive at school with a black ring under her eye. For this her father was sent to jail and Emily confined in her grandmothers apartment. To add insult to injury, Emily had to persist through this hardship at the guiltless age of 8.2

Though, the suffering Emily had to endure never did manage to stop her beautiful smile. She looked like an angel as her golden hair never failed to glisten as if it was a competitor of her crystal blue eyes. But the outside world was immune and ignorant to what was behind those blue eyes. Though they showed the world a smile, subconsciously they welled up tears as her childhood ate her alive. For 6 years after the death of her mother Emily had been building up the tearful lump in her throat but by no means would she let her inner conscious get the better of her sweet outer shell. She knew that her friends, the plastic Barbies of reality would soon get to her and the competitiveness of life itself would drive her to breaking point but was stubborn and keen that each day she would leave her grandmothers house with her deceiving smile bestowed upon her face. As each day passed her emotions grew as did her denial but all other persons were utterly oblivious to her.3

A swift walk down from the bus stop through a green-filled park led Emily to her grandmother’s house. A day unknown that it was to change her life came upon her when she spotted a young man note pad and pen in hand. It was no ordinary boy otherwise he would not have caught her attention. His dark hair contrasted with his eyes similar and glistening alike Emily’s. His black skinny jeans gripped at his thin legs and blended into his sneakers. The mysterious man in black was well at work on the park bench and Emily was soon overcome with curiosity. She sat herself upon the open spot next to him and attempted to peak at his writing. After many failed attempts she thought best to just introduce herself with a friendly hello.
‘Hi.’ Was his quick and simple answer that did not stray him nor lift his head from his work.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, what are you writing? ’ said Emily
‘Poetry, it’s about my life, you wouldn’t understand.’ Said the boy
‘And who says I wouldn’t?’ asked Emily
‘I write about the sh*t I’ve been put through. A St. Mary Girls High girl like you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have experienced real pain.’
‘That’s an awful generalisation! I have probably been put through more than you have’ Said Emily
‘Oh have you now? Did mommy not buy you Gucci shoes for your birthday?’ Mocked the boy. This infuriated Emily
‘No she didn’t! She’s dead! And even if she wasn’t we’d still be 3 million dollars in dept so I wouldn’t be able to afford my “Gucci” shoes!’ Emily stood up as she spitted out these furious words
‘Wow, calm down! I’m sorry; I take back what I said. What else has happened?’ the boy seemed genuinely interested in Emily. This calmed her down and she resided back to her seat.
‘Well, my dad was so distraught that he turned to alcohol. He came home drunk nearly every night and’ Emily chocked on her words ‘would beat me up often. The police got involved and he was sent to jail. What about you?’ Said Emily
‘Well, I’m a marijuana addict and have had 3 failed suicide attempts in counting.’ The boy spoke about suicide so lightly Emily was stunned at how he could speak so openly though she had just done the same. ‘Do you write poetry?’ He asked
‘I used to but not anymore.’ Said Emily
‘You should, you’ve got a lot to write about. You could be an incredible poet. Do you come by here often?’ Said the boy
‘Yes, everyday.’ Said Emily
‘Well, I’ve got to go but I’ll talk to you tomorrow. What’s your name?’ Asked the boy
‘Emily. And you?’ Asked Emily
‘Damien Bentz. Later Emily.’ Said Damien.4

The following day the usual amble to Emily’s house was interrupted by Damien. This time he was not pen and paper in hand but rather an object that brought out anxiety within Emily.
‘Damien, stop!’ Screamed Emily
‘Shh. Not so loud.’ Said Damien
‘You’re going to kill yourself.’ Said Emily
‘It helps me through my day and I told you I’m addicted. Here, try some. It’ll make you feel good’
‘I don’t need it’
‘Oh yeah? When was the last time you cried or talked about your issues with someone?’ Said Damien. Emily was lost for words as it was true that she had always hidden her emotions behind her angelic appearance.
‘It won’t make me feel better’ Emily said this with confidence though she was starting to weaken.
‘You’re lying, I can tell. Here just have a puff; it’ll make you happy’ Said Damien and offered her the marijuana he was smoking. Emily gripped it and almost instantly without assessing her actions put it to her mouth.
‘Well?’ Hastened Damien. Emily took a few more puffs and felt the drug kick in. She was on a high and for the first time in 6 years felt the delight she experienced when her mother was still alive.
‘It’s good isn’t it?’ Said Damien.
‘I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time’ Admitted Emily
‘Have you ever been to a house party?’ Asked Damien
‘No’ Said Emily
‘Don’t go they suck. There’s only one that’s good, its on tonight. I can get you sh*tloads of that stuff.’
‘Where?’ Asked Emily
‘Meet me here tonight, around 7 and we’ll go together.’ Said Damien. As Emily returned to her grandmother’s house the intense drug wore off, which brought Emily crashing down. To most people this would lead to an ongoing hunt for another high but instead it got Emily thinking. That joy brought on by the drug had been neglected and unexperienced by Emily since her mother had died but the girls of the Upper West Side have the privilege of experiencing it all the time! 5

As she arrived home she made haste upstairs and assessed her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Her gorgeous blonde locks and shimmering eyes contradicted her emotions. She felt it wrong to cheat the world and let them believe that she was content. She processed the girl looking back at her through the bathroom mirror and as she did so the tearful lump in her throat began to break away and make its first appearance in the outside world. Streams of salty water made its way down her porcelain looking face and for the first time Emily didn’t look so perfect. Her blood shot and drained appearance showed Emily’s pain and suffering. To her the world had been admiring the wrong face and Emily decided to imprint this misery on her. She opened the bathroom cupboards scurrying through her grandmother’s possessions until she found what she was looking for. She removed the lid of a deep, charcoal black eye liner and layered it on her eyes. This form seemed truer to her, but not yet ideal. She decided to invest in a pair of heavy sneakers; black skinny jeans and hair die the following day as there was no time for it now. She needn’t tell her grandmother that she was leaving but merely stuffed pillows under her blanket to form a bodily shape and turned her bedroom lights off. The feeling of unease and curiosity grew inside her as she left the apartment to meet Damien.6

‘So, where are we going?’ Asked Emily as the pair began to walk
‘It’s not far from here, about a 5 minute walk. He’s a friend of mine.’
‘Alright…what are you meant to do there?’
‘I dunno. Drink, get high…’ Said Damien. They came about a door step with beaming music inside on such high volume the entire world could hear. Damien knocked on the door a few times and soon it was opened. Damien gave a nod to the doorman then made his way into the house, dragging Emily with him. Emily was overcome with excitement as she fell into this atmosphere. The people surrounding her broke away that barrier of perfection she had been experiencing in the Upper West Side. Where ever she looked there were herds of people either drunk or high. It brought out a sense of danger in Emily, which appealed to her.
‘Here. Drink this’ Damien passed Emily a shot of vodka. Already Emily’s usual common sense was fading. She gulped the vile liquid down and felt a rush of threat and peril overcome her. This uniqueness brought out a sense of pleasure and she was soon addicted. Throughout the night she drank, ate and sniffed what ever Damien offered her unaware of the life threat. At the stroke of midnight Damien thought it best to lead himself and his absent minded friend home. After much struggle Damien was able to guide Emily to her apartment and soon left for his own.7

The next morning Emily was awoken with a feeling as if knives had plumaged right through her head. The bus for her school was to leave soon and for no reason would she be late as she new this put her scholarship in jeopardy. As Emily arrived at St. Mary Girls High a realisation over came her. The plastic Barbies of her school were of no interest to her, compared to the extreme rebels who appeared at the party. She finally began to understand her complex emotions. She sensed that the place she used to hold in the Upper West Side society was no longer open to her. During lunch breaks she often distinguished a cluster of her used-to-be-friends that were now thought of as strangers to her. She felt no need to approach them as they shared no common interests with her anymore and rather spent her free time outcast. Her only friends were a pen and paper and with them she discussed life and all its flaws and together they made arousing poetry. 8

As she made her way down the park to her grandmother’s apartment Emily once again spotted Damien Bentz busy at work. She sat herself upon the open place next to him.
‘Hey Emily’ Said Damien
‘Hi. What are you writing?’ Said Emily
‘A poem about a girl.’ Said Damien
‘Oh really? What does this girl do?’ Asked Emily
‘She kills herself. It’s called A New Angle. Don’t worry; it’s not about anyone I know.’ Said Damien
‘Okay, good. Hey, I was thinking of buying some stuff today. Do you want come?’ Asked Emily
‘Yeah, alright. What type of stuff?’ Asked Damien
‘I was thinking of dieing my hair black. And maybe a pair of jeans and shoes like the ones you have’ Said Emily
‘You’re seriously going to die your hair black?’ Questioned Damien
‘Why not? I’m sick of being blonde! Everyone just assumes that blondes are happy.’
‘Alright, if you’re sure I know a place where the security is sh*t and I can steal you the stuff you want.’ Said Damien. The similar feeling of danger and risk Emily had undergone the night of the house party returned to her and with no contemplation she followed Damien to this shop. She observed Damien as he committed burglary. He commenced by flicking a switch on the security camera so it malfunctioned. In the moments he had before an employee repaired the camera he pinched what he was able to and dashed out of the shop to the park. Emily pursued him. 9

The following day she arrived to school with her once golden hair now a deep, shadowy black and solid, dark eye liner bordering her previously shining eyes. Emily experienced an unforgiving day. As she was engaging in her poem the people she used to call her friends made their way passed her. They all combined in a spiteful gaze known as the ‘death stare’. Emily concealed herself in her poem.
‘Hey emo, nice slits!’ Screamed a member of the group
‘What did you call me?’ Threatened Emily rising from her seat.
‘You heard me you drug addict.’ Said the member
‘What the f*ck do you want?’ Asked Emily
‘Stop putting on this act. We now you’re just doing it for attention.’ Said the member
‘F*ck off!’ Said Emily
‘Go cut yourself’ Laughed the member. These words infuriated Emily and she instinctively made her way to the girl who provoked Emily and leaped on her, pulling her towards the earth. In her anger Emily began to strike the girl’s face with her hard fists.
‘You little b*tch! Not so tuff are you, you f*cking princess!’ Screamed Emily. The girls face was red with tears as she went hysterical over her position. The other girls of the group dared not come near Emily. A nearby teacher spotted the brawl and hurried over, grabbing Emily and pulling her off. ‘What in the name of God do you think you’re doing?’ Shrieked the teacher.
‘She was crazy! She just leapt on me for no reason!’ Cried the member
‘Jesus Christ Emily. What came over you?’ Said the teacher. Emily remained unspoken. ‘You’re coming with me.’ The teacher grabbed Emily’s arm and jerked her on the lengthy course to the principal’s office.10

The anger and rage only grew greater as Emily sat outside the principal’s office. She felt helpless as her punishment was being decided upon yet it was the member of the group who provoked her and left her with no choice but to defend herself. The door creaked open and out stepped the principal, an old man who on many occasions reminded Emily of her late grandfather besides this one. On this occasion he reminded Emily of the usual wicked and villenous old man. ‘Come in Emily’ he commanded. She hesitantly followed into his office. ‘Now, what possibly could have happened that made you think violence was the answer?’ He said
‘The girl was being a total b*tch…Sir.’ This sarcastic tone sent Emily’s principal into a rage.
‘Excuse me?! My God, I have never seen such disrespect! I was going to give you a chance for explanation and seeing as you are such a fine student I was perhaps considering letting this one slip. However, this seems completely out of the question now. So you tell me, what seems like a suitable punishment?’ Said the principal
‘How the f*ck should I know, Sir?’ Said Emily
‘Young Lady! Keep this up and you shall face suspension or even worse, expulsion!’ warned the principal
‘Either seem like a good punishment to me, Sir! I’d rather die than face another day here.’ Said Emily
‘Very well, if that is your wish expulsion it is.’ Said the principal. Emily felt as her face went red with fury. This incident had caused her to throw away all that she had strived for and one of the only things she lived for. A valuable education was unaffordable at any other schools apart from this one. She couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment to her parents for though they were either dead or in jail they had only wished the best for Emily. 11

It pained Emily to apologise and plead for forgiveness but by the time she had built up the courage to do so the principal had excused her from his office and ordered her to gather her belongings and leave. As though she was possessed she stood up with her stunned, red face and paced herself to her locker with streams of tears flowing down her face. Once she arrived at her locker the fury inside her burst out as a rampage. She kicked, punched and screamed at her locker. She slumped to the ground and lay there in tears as she contemplated her life as her dreams of a happy future swiftly disappeared. Once her tears had run dry Emily felt it best to depart from her school and catch the next bus back to her grandmother’s place. As she walked down the path to her grandmother’s she spotted Damien which was extremely odd as it was still school hours. ‘Damien?’ Said Emily
‘Hey Emily. Aren’t you meant to be in school?’ asked Damien
‘I could ask you the same question’ Said Emily
‘I don’t go to school. I dropped out last year.’ Said Damien
‘Why?’ Asked Emily
‘It seemed like a waste of time. Besides, I don’t reckon I’m going to live past 15 anyway. I’ll probably die from suicide or a drug overdose or something.’
‘That’s horrible! Why would you say that?’ Asked Emily
‘It’s true! Why aren’t you in school?’ Asked Damien
‘I got expelled today.’ Said Emily
‘Sh*t. Why’s that?’ Asked Damien
‘I beat up some girl who was being a b*tch. At most I thought I would have gotten suspended, but that’s private schools for you. Any sign of rebellion and they want you out!’ Said Emily
‘That’s true. Who needs school anyway? If you’re anything like me you probably won’t to live past 15 either.’ Said Damien
‘What ever. It just feels like complete bullsh*t that I’ve worked so hard and I screw up once and now my life is ruined!’ Said Emily
‘Yeah, that is harsh but I’ve got something that will make you feel better.’ Said Damien lighting up a fair amount of marijuana. He passed it to Emily and she grabbed it and took it to her lips.
‘Save some for me.’ Said Damien
‘I need it more.’ Said Emily continuously puffing away. Eventually Damien grabbed it from her once he thought she was in risk of having an overdose.
‘Oh my god! I feel sick.’ Said Emily
‘Yeah that’s what happens if you take too much.” Said Damien.
‘What do I do?’ Asked Emily
‘There’s only one way I know. You have to stick you’re figures down your throat and throw up.’ Said Damien
‘Like a f*cking bulimic?’ Asked Emily
‘Yeah.’ Said Damien
‘Oh my God. Fine! Fine, I’ll do it.’ Said Emily. She slowly stuck two of her figures down her throat as she felt the hot tears run down her face. Soon enough they were deep enough to make her throw up.
‘Gross. I can not believe I did that.’ Said Emily her face still completely red. Soon after, Emily returned to her home to find her grandmother waiting for her arrival upon the couch. 12

‘Your principal called.’ Said her grandmother
‘And what did he say?’ Asked Emily
‘He told me what happened to day. When were you expecting to tell me this?’ Asked her grandmother with a fierce tone in her voice
‘Why the f*ck would you care?’ Asked Emily, ‘You’ve never given a sh*t about my life but suddenly you do.’
‘I’ve always cared about you Emily! I am your grandmother! If I haven’t seemed like it, it’s because I have never had to be concerned about you before!’ Screamed her grandmother, ‘Look at you! You’re hair is black; your eyes are blood shot! You’ve gotten expelled! I don’t know who you are anymore.’
‘I am me, grandma. I’m Emily! I’m sorry if you were fooled by my looks before, but this is who I really am.’ Said Emily, as she ran upstairs slamming her bedroom door shut and locking it. Hot tears once again made their way down her face as Emily went into hysterics. She had gone on a rampage breaking, kicking and pulling on everything she could get her hands on. She reached the peak of her wrath and collapsed on the floor in tears of fury. She looked up and saw a shard of glass from her lamp she had broken against her wall. She grabbed the sharpest shard still on the floor and took it to her arm. She put it to her skin then slowly cut through her arm. The pain was such a sudden rush for Emily and the feeling of adrenalin she was addicted to returned.13

The following day she made her way to the park to find Damien on his bench. ‘Hey Emily. What’s up?’ Asked Damien
‘Is cutting yourself a bad thing?’ Asked Emily
‘Not at all. Pain is a beautiful thing; it lets you know you’re alive.’ Said Damien
‘Good because I cut myself last night.’ Said Emily showing him the scar her cut had left her
‘Don’t feel bad. I do it all the time. It’s one of the things that makes me believe I’m not going to live past 15.’ Said Damien ‘What did you cut yourself with?’ Asked Damien
‘I used my broken lamp shade.’ Said Emily
‘Wow, I’ve never heard of that before. I normally use my pocket knife.’ Said Damien as he took out his small yet sharp knife showing it off to Emily.
‘How often do you cut yourself?’ Asked Emily
‘Nearly every night. Why do you think I always wear long sleeve t-shirts and thick bracelets?’ Said Damien
‘You don’t think it’s dangerous?’ Asked Emily
‘Of course I think it’s dangerous, but I haven’t got much to live for. To be honest, if I had never met you I’d probably have killed myself by now.’ Said Damien
‘Why is that?’ Asked Emily
‘You’re my only friend and seeing you each day keeps me from hurting myself. I have someone to live for.’ Said Damien
‘Don’t you have family to live for?’ Asked Emily
‘No. I hate both my parents and they can go die for all I care.’ Said Damien, ‘I have to thank you Emily. People like you keep f*cked up people like me alive. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Said Damien14

When Emily arrived home she found her grandmother again waiting for her arrival upon the couch. ‘Emily, where have you been? A few more minutes and I would have called the police!’ Said her grandmother
‘I was at the park.’ Said Emily
‘Emily is this change because of that boy?’ Asked her grandmother
‘What boy? Asked Emily
‘Emily, I’m old but I am not stupid. The boy that carried you in weeks ago when you were so drunk you could barely stand up.’ Said her grandmother to which Emily had no reply. ‘I forbid you from seeing this boy! He is a horrid influence and has done nothing but ruin your life!’ Said her grandmother
‘That’s not fair grandma! Damien is needs me, he’d kill him self otherwise!’ Pleaded Emily, tears welling in her eyes
‘No, absolutely not! If I dare catch you sneaking in or out you can forget living under my roof!’ Warned her grandmother
‘But grandma, you don’t understand! Without me he could die!’ Said Emily
‘That’s quite enough, Emily. Now what’s more important Damien or a home?’ 15

Emily spent the next week few weeks at home, outcast from the outside world, with nothing to look forward to. She missed Damien and agonised over what would happen to him without her. The days seemed to pass as slow as years. The anxiousness of Damien ate at her like leeches as she could only imagine the worse of the situation, Damien abusing himself or even taking his life. She knew she was the only thing stopping him from killing himself though no one else understood. On one tragic day she knew that the regard Damien had for Emily had disappeared when he had finally given up on her. It was usual to here sirens of passing ambulances or police cars but when they were heard by Emily far too close to the park she had no choice but to disobey her grandma’s wishes and investigate the situation herself. Her grandmother was out of the house so she had time to run away to the park and observe. She was in denial of the worst and believed Damien must have stolen a precious entity and gotten caught. However, this was not the case when she approached a police officer to question the recent happenings. “An unidentified body of a young boy was reported here earlier. The suspect is unidentified though. You wouldn’t happen to know who this boy is?” The police officer directed Emily to a bench. And on this bench was the cold, dead body of Damien Bentz still holding his sharp pocket knife. Emily burst out wailing tears of grief and desolation. One of the police officers made his way to comfort Emily. “This is all my fault!” Cried Emily
“It’s not your fault, it’s never our fault.” Said the officer
“No! You don’t understand! I could have saved him but it’s too late! It’s too late!” Said Emily still in tears16

Emily later arrived home to her grandmother. The sight of her grandmother who let her sit in her house helplessly whiles her best friend killed himself enraged Emily to the utmost of her anger. “Oh there you are Emily, help me unpack the groceries” Said her grandmother
“The thought of me ever helping a vile, self-cantered, b*tch like you is hilarious!” Said Emily, “You thought you were helping me by keeping me away from Damien. Well thanks to you he’s dead and I’ll never see him again! So there, you got your way after all.” Screamed Emily in tears as she ran to her room, slamming the door shut.17

The days after Emily spent in denial. The thought of a human being, let alone someone’s best friend dieing as a consequence of her actions were unthinkable. Especially when it wasn’t her fault but her grandmother’s for concealing her in their house. Her tear flow seemed to be endless. Emily finally understood what Damien had meant when he said he had nothing to live for. Now that the only thing she looked forward to seeing had died and she couldn’t care less if her grandmother died as well she felt helplessly alone. That night she snuck out of her house to the park to spend the night on Damien’s bench. She felt more comfortable falling asleep on the bench he died on than in the bed under a roof belonging to her grandmother. Just before she reached the bench an item glistening off one of the street lights caught her eye. She knelt down to study it closer. It was Damien’s pocket knife. Tears fell down her face as she held this object close to her as it was the one thing left of Damien she had. She brought it with her as she sat upon the bench. 18

Emily had convinced herself she had nothing to liver for. No friends, no family close to her and no future. She brought the knife to her arm and in that disastrous moment cut it straight down the middle, deep enough. It didn’t matter to her that she was leaving behind her entire life or that she possibly could have rebuild herself. All that mattered to her was that she would be in a better place than she was now, even if that meant no place at all.