Thirty-Nine: Go.

KAYLA.

I keep a lot of things to myself.

It was the way I grew up—without really having anyone but my journal to talk to and when even that was gone, I was left with nothing. My mind was accustomed to hold these many secrets I burdened it with and my heart was no longer willing to open up to anyone after everything. I was barely living throughout my whole childhood, I was only surviving.

And the closest thing I was to feeling anything at all was the pain from all the torture and the guilt from the fact that I killed my own mother and I remember hearing repeatedly in my head that I didn't deserve this life—I didn't deserve to live.

Many people told me that so many times that it registered in my brain and haunted me in my nightmares and daydreams. I was suffocating and still, no one to talk to. Jumping off the cliff wasn't the hardest part, it was finally caving in to the voices in my head.

It was walking all the way there and thinking killing myself was the only way out of this. I hat