So, another sad story. Not much action, but hopefully still a good story.
"Hey Logan, we're heading down to the pool. Want to come?" Kendall asked as Logan exited the bathroom.
"Sure. I'll meet you guys down there in a few minutes." Logan was surprised by how calm his voice sounded.
"Cool, see you down there." If Kendall noticed anything, he didn't do anything about it. Like always.
Logan had been going through a rough time. He was never the cheeriest, most optimistic person, but now his mood was just ridiculous. The worst part was, he couldn't do anything about it. Logan could feel his happiness slipping away, slowly but surely.
Sometimes he found himself staring at a page in his book, realizing he hadn't actually read anything in five minutes. And those were the good days, the moments when he felt empty and numb. Today was not a good day. Today, the depression had hit at full force.
The sadness, the guilt, no matter what anybody said Logan knew he was a worthless screw up. He was too scared, too quiet, too weak. But he ignored these feelings, because the last thing he wanted was to bother someone with his problems. Logan hid away his feelings, letting them build up until they exploded. And they always exploded.
Thos were the times he found himself in the bathroom. The stress and anxiety would break him, and he would sit, hudled on the bathroom floor as he tried to breathe and fought back sobs. The panic attacks had been happening more frequently lately, every couple of weeks.
At first, Logan had worried about someone finding out and confronting him. The last thing he wanted was to break down in front of his friends. But they never asked. They never wondered why he spent hours in the bathroom, or where the thin cuts on his arm came from. Part of Logan wasn't really surprised. They were probably waiting for him to come to them. Or maybe they just didn't want to know. After all, who wants to hear that their best friend is depressed and suicidal?
All of his friends suspected something. They knew something was wrong, but they didn't know how serious it was. They didn't want anything to be wrong, so they pretended nothing was wrong. Despite this, and in retrospect, they all knew something was wrong. All the signs were there. But it was too late now.
Because sometimes, there is no happy ending. Sometimes, most times, a hero does not rush in at the last second. Too little, too late. Or very late. Actually, it was several hours later that the guys returned to the apartment to find Logan dead on the couch, an empty bottle of pills in hand. At first they told themselves he was just passed out. After all, this is not how it's supposed to end. Where was the second chance? Where was the happy ending? Why hadn't they stopped him? Didn't he know it would get better? Why had they ignored the signs? They could have saved him.
But they didn't. And it was too late, far too late. There were plenty of chances, plenty of signs. None of that mattered now, though. Logan was dead. And there would be no happy ending.