James Diamond definitely wasn't your average seventeen year old boy. One, for the fact that he was in one of USA's biggest up and coming boybands, and two, because for a bit more than five years, he had been a victim of bipolar disorder & self-harm among other types of disorders.
Now you see, the whole depression thing had kicked in while James was finishing up elementary school and moving over to high school. He was mocked and ridiculed for virtually every word he said, every step he took. And why, you ask? Because he was James Diamond, aspiring singer, songwriter and perhaps, if he could get his long legs to do as he wished, dancer. Since James', career paths were slightly different from those around him, he fell victim to everyone. James was called every name imaginable; fag, queer, sinner; it was never-ending. The fact that he wasn't the most muscular kid around also played a part in the never ending taunts, weakening his own resolve to achieve his dream.
The teasing, taunting, ruthless name calling among other snubs from his peers had began to sink in to his bones, leaving permanent scars and burns he failed to get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. He had always been able to escape the fire of his classmates' words once he was at home or with his best friends, but even that had thinned out when his father picked up on his drinking habits, leaving James his target for the violence he spewed out of his mouth and did with his very hands.
It had gotten harder to give out genuine smiles and all the bullying and abuse left its toll on the poor boy, so that he built up his own jail, which he could never find refuge from, oh so conveniently located in his mind.
The buildup of intense emotion he had locked away from the outside world had finally reached a level so high, it haunted every hour, minute, second of his life. Everywhere he turned, he heard the heartless taunts, saw the merciless faces of the people that had made his life miserable, to say the least. He'd reached a point where he couldn't last a day without breaking down and many times he'd cried himself to unconsciousness in the early hours of the morning. The lack of rest combined with the heightened depression began to show in ways never before and lead to crumbling alibis, paper thin excuses and a growing sea of lies.
It was 11:23.
Exactly twenty three minutes after the trigger had been pulled, Kendall, Carlos and Logan had finally managed to jiggle the lock open. But to see what? The crumpled heap on the floor that used to be their best friend. Immediate tears sprung to their eyes, raw emotion clawing at their throats, but not being able to get out a single word.
It was Carlos who finally managed to take a step to go up to his best friend for more than half of his life, and clutch the once warm body to himself. He buried his face in James' soiled shirt, not wanting to get up and face the world without his protector and friend behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but even then, the tears found a way out.
As many times as he denied what he saw, Logan couldn't do anything to reverse it. Gone. His friend was gone. Though he denied, the world was a confusing place without James to help him navigate and understand people. Books could only teach so much and Logan relied on James to learn the rest.
Even if they lived their lifetime twelve times over, nothing could prepare them for the image before them. The blood, dripping out of a haunting wound, splattered carelessly over James' tshirt. The gun, still clutched in his hand, looking up at the three friends, mocking their very being. And James' expression; eyes closed as if resting, eyebrows slightly raised upwards and mouth turned up just a little at the ends leaving a smile. A sad, helpless smile. Drawn out over his lips as if to say sorry. Sorry he couldn't put up with it. Sorry he had reached his breaking point. Sorry he couldn't go on longer. But mostly, sorry there was no other way out. As heartbreaking as it was, it was a smile and undeniably, the boy looked a tad peaceful, finally away from everything that had broken him down in the past six to seven years. It was still a smile, James Diamond's last smile.