Despair. He was walking around the theatre for about an hour. There was no one around. He didn't really know how he had got Danny to leave hi alone. All he knew was that he was walking aimlessly trying to clear his head. But all his efforts were in vain. The only thought in his head: death.
There was a time when he thought about doing it. The final step. The step which only a few brave ones had the guts to do. But then, he met Danny. He got a job at Studio 60. Well, he was practically living on the floor in front of the writers' room. But it was worth it. And then, he met HER. The moment that he laid his eyes on hers, the first time they made contact he knew that she was… the one. It sounded like a cheesy line from a crappy novel but it was the truth.
But now all he could think about was death. She was gone. Gone… he hated this word but he couldn't bring himself to use the other one. De-… no, he couldn't even think about it.
Gone… It wasn't like she was gone-because-he-did-something-stupid, this time it was for real. She was gone from the face of the Earth. And he wasn't much of a believer; she was the one that believed: in God, in him and his talent as a writer. And she wasn't afraid to show it. He acted like he didn't respect her Christianity but deep down, he admired her. He admired her honesty, her generosity, her will to do good things, to help people. He was never like that. In fact, there were only 2 people in his life that he cared for, 2 people that he loved: her and Danny.
But what was he going to do now? She had disappeared from his life; from everybody's life. Everybody was going to miss her. They were already throwing charity dinners in her memory. They were auctioning her CDs and her lyrics drafts in order to raise money for the causes she fought for. But nobody was missing her as much as Matt did. He missed her scent, her smile, her hair, the sound of her footsteps when she climbed the stairs to his office, the sound of her knocking on his door. He even missed their non-stop bickering. She was his everything, his life, his inspiration… his addiction.
Suicide… she would say that it is a sin. He wasn't afraid of it. He was ready to do it now. He had nothing. He had lost her. And so, he has lost his ability to be funny, to write. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat. He could barely breathe. He had shut down completely; he was living on the inside. But the only thing that tied him to this Earth was the memories of her: the first time they met, the first conversation, the first sketch he had successfully wrote for her; their first date, their first kiss; the first time they made love; the first argue they had; the first time they had spent Christmas together… and the list could go on. The memory of her, her face, her eyes, her smile, the image of her was vivid in Matt's head.
He knew he would be haunted by these thoughts for ever. There was no way he could escape. Unless…
He opened the drawer to his desk. There it was; the bottle of Vicodin he was keeping just in case. He was just about to throw it out last week but something stopped him from doing it. Without thinking twice he swallowed a fairly large amount of pills. The effect was instant. Colors started mixing and the floor of his office started spinning.
The final result: numbness. It was… bliss.