Warnings: Suicide, brief mild language. Charlie-centric. Constructive critism is welcome, but flaming it just because you don't like the idea is stupid. I would hate it if Charlie killed himself too, but I wrote it anyway. So there. Read and Review!!! ~Lavender Mitsukai
It wasn't like anyone would miss him anyway. He had lived sixteen years and not one person ever truly acknowledged his existence. Okay, so maybe that was a lie. But lately, even Linus, his best and only real friend, was distant. It used to bother him. He would cry himself to sleep at night for weeks. But then he stopped caring, he felt different. Numb.
What a beautiful feeling.
Every time he felt something negative after that he forced himself into that wonderful state of ignorance and bliss. Drastic measures were often taken; drugs, cutting, forcing himself to puke, you name it, he'd done it. All in the name of apathy.
But something was wrong. It wasn't working anymore no matter what he did. For weeks now he had struggled to find that niche where he didn't think and not once had it come back to him. Maybe God did that on purpose, like you do to a dog to get it to do what you want. He put the treat in front of his face, that wonderful lack of emotion, and then yanked it away, tempting him time and again with the ultimate corner of nothingness.
Death.
Honestly, most teenagers aren't so fixated with the thought. But he'd always had it there in the back of his mind. Suicide sounded poetic to him, whereas most found it horrific. But he supposed that simply meant it was meant for him. Just like how some people never stop thinking about having a baby and BAM! they wind up pregnant.
Now all he had to do was tighten the rope and kick the chair out from underneath him...
He was shaking, scared. In his last moments, he suddenly wondered if he should have gone to church once or twice. No, it wouldn't matter. According to all religions, suicide was instant condemnation to hell.
He found himself praying—to what?—that it was all just a lie. Hell didn't exist, but he didn't want heaven to exist either. He just wanted to fade away. But even after tightening the noose, he couldn't bring himself to move the chair.
"Damn it all," he whispered, pissed at himself. "Just kick the fucking chair. Come on, kick the chair...." And he did.
On October 2nd, his sixteenth birthday, Charlie Brown successfully committed suicide.