*stumbles forward* Hey. I don't even know how I had the idea for this, it was just a random idea. Trigger warning in full force, a character is depressed and commits suicide. It's... a little more jarring than what I usually write. I actually almost rated this M.

ACT 1

Positive, the word echoed through my mind. How could this happen? I blinked back tears, to no avail. The tears spilled onto my cheeks, making my mascara run and my face flush. Positive. How could you have been so stupid, April? I scolded myself internally.

What was I going to do? I knew that I was dying. I needed comfort. I needed Roger.

A thought struck me like a jolt of electricity, shocking me all around. I had just tested positive for AIDS… that meant Roger probably had AIDS too! The thought made the room spin and the floor disappear. I was falling to the floor like a discarded piece of scrap metal. Then, as if I were dreaming, I was standing up and running, running, running away, my breath burning in my throat and chest. My feet were leaden. It was a challenge to lift them, and when they fell back to the pavement, they felt heavy enough to cause tremors for miles around.

A thought came to me.

What if I ended it all?

What if I just gave up?

I was already dying, and so was Roger.

Roger, I thought. Roger loves you, the little voice in my head whispered. I shook my head. Roger won't love me when he finds out that I gave him AIDS. No one would want to be associated with me.

I would end it all.

Don't think of it as suicide, I thought. Well, it is suicide. But don't think of it like that. It's... more of a shortcut. I might as well make it easier for everyone around me.

I was making it easier.

I arrived at the loft apartment I shared with Roger at 4:00. He wasn't due to be back until 7:30.

I would be dead by then, I had to make sure of it.

I slowed my pace, this time I was shaking slightly. My shuddering hand found the knob of the drawer in which I kept my blades. They were hidden in a small box at the bottom. My depression had gotten slightly better over time, especially as soon I met Roger. I had stashed the blades in the drawer without a second thought.

I'm glad I didn't think twice.

I grabbed a sheet of notebook paper and a pen and scribbled my note. It read:

Roger-

I'm sorry. We have AIDS. Don't think of this as a choice. It is simply a shortcut.

I love you.

-April

I wrote another note too, but never mind that. I folded it up and wrote the name of the intended recipient.

I placed the notes on the edge of the bathroom sink, then dropped to the floor with the little box cradled in my hands.

I didn't feel the blades piercing my skin. I just felt numb. I did feel the blood. It was hot- hotter than tears. It was the last thing I ever felt.

ACT 2

April Ericsson died at 4:36 PM on May 24, 1988.

Her boyfriend wasn't supposed to be home for 3 more hours. April had assumed that Roger would be the one to find her.

He wasn't.

Maureen Johnson had just gotten back to the apartment building when it dawned on her that she should check on her friend. The time was 5:09 PM. She approached the door of the apartment that April shared with Roger. Maureen did a double take. The door wasn't propped open with a shoe, which was the norm when April was home. Maureen's pulse quickened. Something was wrong.

"April?" Maureen called, hoping her friend could hear her through the door.

Silence. "You home?" Maureen could hear only her own heartbeat.

"April? Are you okay?"

Maureen fumbled around in her purse for the apartment key- April had given her one months ago, in case she ever needed to get in. And she needed to get in.

Her hand was unsteady as she slipped the key into the lock. She's probably fine, Maureen told herself. She just… ran out to the store. To… to get milk. She'll be home in a couple minutes.

Maureen slowly pushed the door open. Her heart skipped a beat. April's shoes were there, neatly in line.

Maureen surveyed the rest of the apartment. Everything was as it should have been.

Her eyes fell on the open desk drawer, the only thing askew. They probably just forgot to close the drawer this morning. Stop overreacting, Maureen! she scolded herself.

The sunlight reflected off something coming from the direction of the bathroom. Frowning, Maureen traipsed over to the doorway.

Her gaze fell upon the body of her best friend. A high-pitched scream came forth from her mouth. She tried to form these shrieks into words, but her mouth wouldn't move. She pulled in a deep breath, but could only scream more. She sank to the floor, not noticing or caring that she was kneeling in a puddle of blood.

It was 5:52, and Maureen Johnson was a wreck. She was no longer the only one crouched over April's body. She had called Mark Cohen- her boyfriend, and Roger's best friend. Mark was trying to discuss ways to reach Roger. Maureen was shaking from sobs. Mark's arm was around her. Tears were not absent from his face either.

Maureen clutched a note in her hand, one she had hidden from Mark. Both had read the other (and felt guiltily intrusive about reading it) and knew that it would break Roger's heart.

The other one had broken Maureen's heart. It read:

Maureen-

I know it's going to be rough for you after this, and I'd like to apologize in advance. I think it would've been worse if you were here to watch me slowly fade away. In case you didn't read the other note, I tested positive for AIDS. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. There will be enough people doing that at my funeral.

And please take care of yourself. Stick with Mark. He's a good guy. But if things don't work out with Mark, I hope you find the right person for you– man or woman.

Your secret is one I'm carrying to the grave.

-April

She knew, Maureen thought. She knew, but I didn't tell her, and she didn't tell me she knew. She didn't tell anyone else, either. I guess we were closer than I thought we were. I wish I had the chance to talk to her before she died.

Mark was on the phone, telling Roger to get to the apartment ASAP. Maureen shuddered. What would Roger do when he found out what had happened? She buried her face in her hands. What was going to happen to all of them?

Heheh... a little weird, I know.