A/N: Hey, everyone! Crystalteen here!

I decided to write this very emotional one-shot to bring awareness of suicide, considering it's a serious situation that has taken the lives of far too many people.

Be warned, this one-shot is rated T because it includes very graphic descriptions of depression, self-harm, and suicide. If any of these topics trigger you, I highly suggest proceeding with caution.

Please, feel free to share your thoughts in the reviews or you can PM them to me at anytime!

You are all strong, beautiful people and I love each and every one of you.

Now, enjoy the one-shot.

Monday, March 26th, 1984

Shermer High School, Shermer Illinois

60062

It had been just two days since the infamous Saturday detention that impacted the lives of a Brain, an Athlete, a Basket Case, a Princess, and a Criminal. However, Claire Standish had been the main one to have tricked herself into believing that nothing would've changed in any of their lives by that following Monday. It was 9:30 in the morning, the middle of second period on that very day that was surely going to put the Breakfast Club to the test ... and the shoo-in for Prom Queen couldn't believe what she was actually seeing.

Three hours ago, she had been awoken by her family's maid and instructed to get ready for school. Claire, despite feeling a slight heaviness in her gut from just knowing that her accusations about that very day would turn out to be one hundred percent true, treated the morning like any other typical one. For fifteen minutes, she bathed in a lukewarm bubble bath that had already been prepared for her and rested cucumber slices on her eyes as she tried to forget about the passionate kiss that she had shared with John Bender. After all, she knew that the two of them could never turn out to be an actual couple. Then, Claire proceeded to tame her bedhead, put her hair through a curling iron in order to give it some wave, style her makeup, and get dressed. Today's outfit was a short-sleeved, ruffled, Ralph Lauren blouse that was the color of the sea, along with a knee-length pencil skirt, matching blue heels, and a topaz necklace with matching stud earrings. Claire could already tell that she was going to have all of the boys drooling over her and all of the girls envying her ... just like she always did.

Two hours ago, as the redhead's father drove her up to the school in his well-known BMW, she noticed a familiar face waiting with a smile that almost perfectly resembled the one that a child would wear while entering a candy store. It was Allison Reynolds, looking exactly as she did before Claire gave her that makeover. Her dark brunette hair was an absolute mess, sticking in a variety of directions, and she was wearing a paint-stained, oversized, maroon turtleneck with the same long, loose, black skirt and dirty converse that she had worn during detention. Although, she didn't have as much "black shit" on her eyes as before.

Claire practically grimaced at the sight of her, averting her eyes for a brief moment in order to try convincing herself that it was just a dream. However, when she glanced back again, Allison was still there on the stairs that led up to the school. She waved in the direction of Claire's car, right before she reached into her old bag and pulled out some neatly folded clothes that the Beauty Queen had given to her during the makeover. It was obvious that she was planning to give them back ... but as soon as Claire climbed out of the BMW, she tried walking past Allison without giving her the time of day.

The Recluse's grin vanished in less than a second, but she didn't hesitate to call out Claire's name. That immediately had Claire freezing in her tracks, only because she noticed a variety of peers already beginning to glance over in their direction with strange, uncertain, judgmental stares on their faces. Unfortunately, when Allison tried to give her explanation on why she wanted to give the frilly clothes back, Claire put on a ridiculously fake smile and loudly proclaimed that she was perfectly okay with Allison "keeping her pencil."

The expression on the brunette's face became lost and hurt, as if she was a child that had just been told that Santa didn't exist ... but, even though this caused a small sting of guilt to prod at the redhead's heart, Claire kept her phony grin on her face, turned her back on Allison, and met her clique at the entrance of Shermer. Their eyes were full of disgust and scorn as they shot some not-so-subtle stares in the Basket Case's direction, and they asked Claire quite loudly what she had wanted from her. Claire's response was just as audible and perfectly nonchalant: "She's just somebody from that lame detention that I served on Saturday. I let her borrow a pencil and she was just wondering if she could keep it. As if I would want it back after some dirty freak like her touched it, right?" Insulting laughter filled the Shermer hallways shortly after that, and even though Claire's wasn't genuine at all ... it sure as hell felt that way to Allison.

One hour ago, during first period, the Princess noticed shortly after answering a question correctly that the Basket Case was much quieter than usual. She was sitting in her usual spot in the far back of the classroom, but staring directly at her desk without moving a muscle. She perfectly resembled a statue and normally, she would've been sketching, fiddling around with her clothes, biting her nails ... or at least blinking. It was evident to Claire that something was on Allison's mind ... but, when the brunette abruptly peeked up and briefly made eye contact with the redhead, Claire pretended that she had only been using her shoulder to scratch away an itch from her jaw. Then, she turned back around in her seat and didn't give Allison another glance for the entire period ... even though that she could've sworn that she had seen a single teardrop leak down the Recluse's cheek.

And right now ... Claire could've sworn that she felt her heart drop all the way down into the pit of her stomach. Halfway through second period, Allison had raised her hand and asked the teacher if she could use the restroom. After being allowed to go, the Basket Case hadn't returned for twenty minutes and when the teacher started to complain about it in front of the whole class, Claire made an offer to go check on what the hold up was. She had expected to find Allison either ditching or experiencing a bad case of a sickness ... but neither of those were the explanation as to why the brunette girl hadn't made it back to the classroom.

"Allison?" Claire had called out upon rounding the corner that led to the bathrooms.

Nobody answered and everything was silent, causing a slight tingle of nervousness to shoot up the upcoming Prom Queen's spine. Allison was probably pissed at her and giving her the silent treatment, but Claire refused to give up that easily. She was secretly hoping that a quick explanation on her recent behavior would make everything better between her and the Basket Case. So, she entered the bathroom, filling the air with the sound of her high heels clicking against the tile floor with every step that she took.

"Allison, are you in here?" Claire inquired as she walked past the brick wall that separated the doorway from the view of the stalls. "Listen ... we really need to talk about—"

Before she could finish that sentence, Claire practically choked on a harsh breath that she drew in at the speed of lightning. Her flawless skin became paler than snow, her chocolate-colored eyes grew to be the size of two globes, and she felt the strong urge to scream immediately ball up in the pit of her stomach. However, she was absolutely horrified to the point where no sound was able to escape from her mouth.

A chair had been kicked to the ground and Allison Reynolds—the girl with phenomenal art skills, a surprisingly contagious smile, and a sensitive heart—was hanging from a noose in one of the wide-open stalls. Her face was entirely dull and covered in messy black streaks that had been the result of her makeup running. Her head was also tilted a little to the side, exposing the nasty burn mark that was already starting to form all around her throat from the thick rope, and hey eyes were left half open. They were completely emptied of life and horribly red-rimmed, giving it away that she had been crying for quite some time. Not only that, but the sleeves of her sweater had been rolled up, revealing dozens of scars that were slashed deeply across both of her arms. From the bottoms of her wrists and leading all the way up to where her sweater met her skin, there was nothing but long, brutal, self-inflicted cuts. A majority of them were fresh, dripping with blood that wouldn't stop leaking down to the floor, one drop at a time. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

Claire flew her hands up to her mouth and collapsed roughly to her knees. She could feel her heart racing a million miles per second, practically punching her with full force in the chest with every leap that it made. She sat there on the floor of the girls' restroom, feeling hot tears beginning to fill her eyes as she was unable to turn her head away from the devastating sight that was before her.

"Okay ... what if I came up to you?"

"... Same exact thing."

That moment from the Saturday detention—where the Princess answered the Basket Case's question on what would happen if the two of them came in contact with each other during school hours—echoed in Claire's mind and pressed down on her shoulders, feeling like a billion weights. It was followed by the memory that revolved around her giving the Recluse a makeover. The two of them had gotten along perfectly, exchanging grins and laughter as Allison goofed around by making tons of rodent noises and Claire commented about her "black shit." Then ... there was the moment that dated back to just two hours previously. Claire had ignored Allison, brushed off her noticeable pain and humiliation, and even staged an insult in order to prevent her popular friends from knowing about the truth behind the detention.

"Noo..." Claire whimpered, shaking her head in denial. "No, Allison, no!"

With every word that she spoke, the more her body started to tremble and the louder her voice became from the heartbroken sobs that were painfully punching at the inside of her chest. Her slim figure bent forward, back arching like a cat as she clenched her hands tightly into fists and slammed them both down against the mostly TP'ed floor. There were no words that could possibly describe how much the Princess was hoping and praying for this to turn out to be nothing more than one hell of a nightmare. However, no matter how many times she squeezed her eyes shut and popped them back open, she still saw Allison's lifeless corpse dangling like a rag doll.

"A-A-ALLY! NOO!" Claire wailed at the top of her lungs, surprisingly not shattering any of the mirrors. "NO, NO, NO! PLEASE NO!"

Tears poured down her cheeks like individual waterfalls as she shot back up onto her knees, gripping her hair in despair and continuing to miserably shake her head. Shortly after that, from the corner of her eye, Claire saw a couple of things lying on one of the sinks. First, there was the neatly folded pile of expensive clothes from the Saturday detention makeover, which still smelled like wet paint and pencil shavings from Allison. Then, there was a sharp razor blade that was completely drenched in blood ... and lastly, a folded piece of paper.

With her chest aching, stomach doing somersaults, and legs quivering like jello, Claire forced herself to stand back up. She used one of the nearby paper towel dispensers as support, still bawling like a newborn and not giving a damn about how her mascara was, without a doubt, running by this point. After stealing another miserable glance in her deceased friend's direction, Claire shakily reached her hand out, grabbed the piece of paper, and unfolded it with the most care that a human being could possibly have for anything.

Allison's handwriting covered the paper, along with numerous drops of blood and some miniature doodles of highly detailed, broken hearts and eyes with teardrops accompanying them. Multiple words were scribbled out and a majority of the letter was written messily, making it obvious that the Basket Case had most definitely been in a depressing state while writing it.

"H-how can this be fair?!" Claire exclaimed with her eyes stinging from all of the salty water and ruined makeup that was invading them. "T-this ... this just CAN'T be happening!"

Despite how her vision wouldn't stop flickering back and forth from blurry to clear, the redhead leaned herself against the wall and forced herself to read the note.

Whoever finds me,

I'm sorry to have cursed you with such a gruesome sight ... but I'm afraid that I can't force myself to keep putting up with this dark, cold, twisted world for another day.

For years, I've been trapped in this mental prison, unable to get through a full twenty-four hours without debating whether or not I should write this exact note. For as long as I could remember, I've cried myself to sleep almost every night and woken up every morning, questioning my existence and wondering why I couldn't have just slipped away in my sleep. I've been keeping the pain held in for so long, trying to keep it on the down low and hoping that by doing that, it would just fade away like it was never there.

However, that's not the way that this shitty world works. The pain has only increased and gotten stronger inside of me, making me feel like I'm completely tangled in chains and unable to break free since the keys are WAY too far out of my reach.

My parents have been neglecting me for years, so nobody will have to bother with telling them that I'm gone. To them, they never had a daughter to begin with and they wouldn't notice any difference in their lives by this final decision of mine.

Ever since middle school, I've been told by plenty of my classmates that nobody cares about me and that the world would be a FAR better place without my "worthless, freaky ass." At first, I tried to ignore them ... but after you continue to hear the exact same insults for five straight years, the hateful words become MUCH harder to let go of.

I've tried to escape the pain by creating my artwork, but no matter how many paintings or sketches I make ... the depression ALWAYS returns. My art is getting me nowhere, as if I had anywhere to go in the first place. Not only that, but I've constantly tried to fit in by attending one undeserved Saturday detention after another ... and just recently, two days ago during the latest detention, I thought that I had FINALLY found a group of people to call my friends.

There was a Brain, an Athlete, a Princess, and a Criminal. In the beginning, we were brainwashed ... but by the end of the day, we had bared our souls, touched each other in ways that none of us knew possible, and became known as the Breakfast Club. Unfortunately, due to our stereotypes, we had declared that the five of us would more than likely never be able to associate with each other again. So, I met four FANTASTIC people ... only to have them taken away from me by the end of the exact same day. What's the point of having friends if you're not "allowed" to be around them in public?

I've been dying inside for so long ... and after all of these years, I've decided that this day—Monday, March 26th—would be the final nail in my coffin. I can't handle the pain anymore. I'm not a fighter, nor was I ever one to begin with ... so, unless I want to continue to grow to just find myself locked up in a ward from my depression taking full control of me, it's my time to die.

Whoever finds me, please do me this final favor:

Tell Claire Standish, Brian Johnson, John Bender, and Andrew Clarke that I love them and that even though I'm gone, I don't want them to dwell on me. Tell them that I know that they are all going to get far in their lives and let them know that even in my final moments with me writing this letter, I thought of the four of them as my best friends for life. They're the only ones that have managed to hold my heart in their hands.

Now, I'm afraid that it's time for me to go. I'm running out of space to write.

Keep your head up, okay? I know that you're far stronger than me. Just keep holding on tight and moving forward in your life as well, whoever's reading this.

... Goodbye.

P.S. I really wouldn't blame the rest of the Breakfast Club if they pretended not to know anything about me. We all made an agreement that it would more than likely turn out that way anyway ... but still be sure to carry out my last wish. No matter how they respond, that's truly how I still feel.

Claire clenched the note tightly in her trembling hands and hung her head in a mixture of shame and pain. Then, as she brought the piece of paper in close to her chest, she slid her back down the cold wall and continued to use every last speck of her energy to loudly cry. This wasn't how she imagined the events of the following Monday at all. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way!

Suddenly, there was the sound of a familiar voice exclaiming from the doorway of the bathroom. "For the love of God, what's with all of the cryin' in here?!" It was John Bender, accompanied by the squeaking of his rundown boots as he helped himself to entering. "Did somebody in here break a nail or some shi—"

As the Criminal came into view from around the corner, he cut himself off when it came to his realization that it was the Princess that was sobbing. Then, with a slight turn of his head, his gaze fell on the hanging body of Allison Reynolds and his jaw practically fell all the way down to the floor. He stumbled back, nearly falling on his butt from not expecting such a terrifying view. The only thing that prevented him from collapsing to the floor was the brick wall.

"H-HOLY SHIT!" Bender bellowed louder than ever before, actually feeling the wetness of tears starting to curl up in the corners of his eyes.

He began swallowing large gulps of air in a panic, trying to get his heart rate to go back to its original pace. Until now, he had failed to realize just how much the Breakfast Club truly meant to him ... and one of the members was now dead.

"Claire! Don't look!" Bender barked, practically throwing himself over to the redhead and—for once—saying her name without malice. He got down on one knee and wrapped one arm firmly around Claire's shaking body, while he used his other hand to block her view of Allison's body. "SOMEBODY! HELP! CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Bender hollered out, triggering a gasp from somebody else that had been in the hall.

"A-A-ALLY!" Claire sobbed as some of her tears fell off from her face and landed on the suicide note. "I-I-I'M S-SO SORRY!"

A/N: There you all have it, my fantastic viewers!

Now, before I have anybody trying to come through the computer to get me for killing off Allison, let me explain myself! I actually love Allison the most, but I figured that she would be the best character to use to point out such a large issue. After all, she didn't really have anybody to turn to and, while others would argue that Bender would've been the "more obvious" choice, I thought that he at least forced himself to fit in by making plenty of people either fear him or think that he was cool. Anyway, I absolutely adore "The Breakfast Club" and wouldn't want any of the characters to actually die. This one-shot was just meant to show the heartbreaking reality of what suicide can do to those around you.

Remember: No matter what is going on, there's always hope and people who truly care. If you know somebody who is suicidal, or if you are a victim of suicidal thoughts yourself, don't be afraid to speak up and get help. No matter what is said or done, you do matter and the world wouldn't be a better place without you here. In fact, you are somebody who makes it better. :) Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Don't let it lie to you and tell you otherwise.

Also: Keep in mind, sometimes all somebody wants is for someone else to listen to them. You'd be surprised by how much just listening and being therecould save a life.

Matthew 11:28-30: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Please don't hold back on sharing your thoughts! I'm always excited for feedback, so go ahead and PM them to me or write them in the reviews! :D

Keep your chin up! Things do get better! :) I love you all! *Insert heart emoji here* :D

Anyway, I believe that I've said everything that I wanted to say.

Until my next update, everyone!

Crystalteen, out! :D :D :) :)