Suicide mention

Dear Dante,

My sister is a big fan of yours. She used to tell me stories of your adventures. One day, I would be just like you. Not her, me.

You see, she has a weak heartbeat. She would never be able to do the things you do on a regular basis. So, that left me, the healthy one, to be the world travling Seeker. Anyway, she lived as normally as she could. But that wasn't enough. She wanted a new heart. A strong heart. Secretly. She didn't want to bother our parents with something that would probably never happen.

I told her we could afford it, but she refused. She was going to die before me anyway. I got mad at her, funny how love works. At the school, we got picked on. She ignored them. I tried. My sis helped me through it, though. She wanted me be to happy. It stopped eventually.

We almost went to a party, but some asshole scared her and she nearly died. I wanted to hurt that guy so bad. I didn't get to. She was more disappointed that I didn't get go than upset about being in the hospital. She's always there for me.

So, I'll give her my heart. I don't think I was suppose to know I was a match. It doesn't matter. By the time you get to this, I'll be dead.

Signed, a loving brother

May 2nd 2014

"No, no, no!" I growled. I let the fanmail pile up again. Not because I wanted to, there was always so much.

This letter, suicide note, was a year old. So many people, so many families, write to me saying I gave their children and them hope and comfort in dark times. Those letters were better the ones like this. People who were my fans a year ago aren't here now. How many letters had I missed?

"Dante? What's wrong?" Zhalia put a hand on my shoulder.

"... I got fanmail. I always get so much, I can't get to it all in time. Someone wrote me a year ago saying how their sister had heart condition. They decided to commit suicide to give her their heart. I just got to it." Anger, frustration, sadness all whirled inside me.

"It's not your fault. There's no way you could have done anything." She told me. I could have tried to write back.

"I... need air." I left the piles of papers and went to the streets.