"A quick way out."

You were eleven. Your grandmother is in her early 50's. The bus takes you away. From a place. A certain place. It's fuzzy though. What place? And why was it taking you away? You asked your grandmother, she just smiled.

Your head hurts.

All you've ever known is the peace and quiet of Faraway Town.

And you have come to love it.

"It's efficient and common. Humans have been doing this for as long as we can remember."

Your grandmother does too. The air is fresh and welcoming. The town was closest to nature, and the closest you have ever been. At that young age, your grandmother taught you how to care and nurture them. And you did. Your little house, that cozy small home cared by a close family of two were filled with the earthly scent of plants and flowers. All around you. You liked that scent.

"When you use this, you tell others you abhor this reality. That you just rather just leave."

That's why you love being here. You like this place. It feels like a new beginning for you. But what exactly has ended for you to begin again? You asked your grandmother again, and she just smiled again.

And why is it becoming difficult to remember?

You stopped asking.

"Don't look at me like that. Are you scared? You shouldn't be. They won't blame you for anything. Even if this is practically your fault."

That girl named Aubrey was the first friendly face you've ever encountered. She was nice, and you're very grateful to her. She protected you from the big kids, the mean ones. She's strong and brave, just as she's friendly and thoughtful.

And you were especially grateful she introduced you to others. Mari, the loving and kind Mari. The girl with the most gentle smile, and she carries a protective and caring aura wherever she goes. Loved, wherever she goes.

Hero, Mari's significant other. You always thought it was beautiful they were together. Hero was mature and wise like Mari. And there's just this sweet and tender love obvious in each other's eyes. Their own little world subtly present at the preserved moments of photographs. You wish you can find the similar relationship they had.

Kel; he's very playful, a buzzing ball of energy. He's bright and fun. When he talks, it comes naturally that you're always entertained. His stories are playful, and his smile were the brightest and contagious. He's approachable and it isn't even an effort for him to make friends. You wish you have half the social energy that Kel has.

And of course, your best-friend, Sunny.

At first he seemed quiet and indifferent, but he was warm. Very warm. He had the comfort that Mari carried, a certain charm that Hero possessed, Aubrey's thoughtfulness, and Kel's brightness, but leaning more on subtlety.

Of course you love all your friends, and they all equally matter to you. But Sunny just seemed different. It's always a struggle for you to vent, but when you're with him it comes naturally. You feel comfortable showing your hobbies and interests, the most mundane of thoughts and... nothing. The two of you can sit there and do nothing and you'll still feel happy.

You wish to protect him. You wish to protect these valuable memories. This was all you had.

Thud.

And there she was. Just a few steps away from where you're standing. Motionless. Unmoving. Her face was covered with messy tangles of long hair, you can see a part of the broken violin beneath where her head lies. There were broken bits of wood tangled in her long hair.

In that big empty and dark house, there was only an unnerving silence.

It was familiar. Terrifyingly familiar. Sunny thinks she's still alive. That was a pretty hard fall. That is sure to hurt someone. Bad monster. Bad something. It wasn't Sunny, it was something. It wasn't him.

You helped him carry Mari to bed. She just need to sleep a little. Just a little rest. Then she's going to be okay. It should be. That's how it should be. But she isn't waking up. She's just lying there.

What's happening?

And that's where it hit you.

She's dead.

She's never going to open her eyes nor speak or breathe again. She's never going to make it to the recital. Never going to hold another picnic again. She's not going to be here anymore. You lost her. You both lost her.

Your gaze averted to Sunny. When you gently held his shoulder and he flinched that's where you realized he's shaking. His fists are curled so tightly, and he's sweating. He was crying. His eyes are glazed over, pleading, begging, praying, waiting for something to happen.

When everyone sees this, when everyone sees Mari here, they're going to blame him. They really are going to blame him. They're going to be pointing fingers on him. They'll repeatedly tell him it's his fault. They'll hate him. He'll hate himself. You know you can't allow that to happen.

A vague, blurry image of a feet hanging a few meters from the floor quickly flashed over you. A quick way out. It's common. And efficient. Humans have been doing it for as long as they can remember. "Everything's going to be okay..."

You don't know how you even said it, or in which manner you proposed the idea. But the next thing you know, you're carrying her body down the stairs. Her own brother with you. When you placed her corpse down the floor, it was quiet and careful, as if the littlest noise will inform the entire neighborhood on what you were planning to do.

But you can't think. All you want is to protect your best-friend. That is all there is to it. And so you ignored the way your hands tremble and the erratic beating of your heart. You slid opened the glass door and the both of you continued to drag her motionless body at the backyard. There was no sign of slight movement or squirming, she really is dead. Just like... Just like... who?

The both of you stopped under the tree. Panting, catching your breath. You both rested for a while. As if having all the time in the world. And that's where you saw it. The jumping rope. Of course you know that the jumping rope was at this spot.

Days before the recital, you and your friends were playing with it. And you remembered seeing Kel leave it under the shade of tree after you were all being called for a snack break. You glanced back at Sunny, he's staring at the leaves. And then you looked back at the rope.

It was calling to you, and you slowly picked it up. And then the next steps was easy. Too easy, painfully easy. The way your fingers weave and made the knots was smooth, like you've done this a countless times. But you haven't. Tears strolls down your eyes and the rope was hastily taken away from you.

By a woman. The woman sits at the chair. Her blonde hair was all ruffled and messy. Dark circles beneath her tired lifeless eyes, disdain hinted at them. The air here was suffocating. The stench of unwashed dishes and empty liquor bottle lies abandoned at the sink, there were clothes and house furniture trampled at the floor, the paint job of the walls and ceilings was fading, revealing the rotting wood underneath them.

Your mother was holding a rope. You were sitting there at the floor, hugging your knees close to your chest. You don't understand what's happening. She spoke to you, as she dangled the rope above you. "A quick way out." She said, so casually, indifferently.

She knelt at your level, a thin sinister smile spreading across her face as she starts to weave and knot the rope, ever so slowly, as if she wanted you to memorize every single step. "It's efficient and common. Humans have been doing this for as long as we can remember." You wanted to speak, ask questions, but you know better. You weren't exactly taught to ask questions, you were taught to be quiet and obedient. To never talk back. To never question the things of adults.

Your mother paused midway, staring dead into your eyes, it made you flinch. She hates you. "When you use this, you tell others you abhor this reality. That you rather just leave." And she was finished. She exhales, satisfied with whatever it is that she did with that rope. She held both ends of her work and attempted to pull it apart, just to test it's strength. She looked at you again, that same uncanny smile still present at her lips. "This is a noose, Basil. You remember that."

Your mother pulled out a smaller chair from under the table with her foot, and then she stood on top of it. You quietly watched her hang the "noose" on the ceiling. Your body began to tremble, your whole body tensing. Your heart was racing. You were scared. You have no idea what she was doing but your mind tells you that this is bad.

"Don't look at me like that. Are you scared? You shouldn't be. " She scoffed, "They won't blame you for anything. Even if this is practically your fault."

And what happened next was blurry. But you can vividly remember her gasps, her cries, her screaming, the way her body squirmed and legs kick and bloody fingers gnaw at the rope tightening, tightening, and tightening around her neck.

You looked down, trying to hold back your sobs. Tears were just endlessly flowing at your eyes. And she was right. They never blamed you. In fact, a lot of people sympathized with you. Even if it was your fault. Even if it was your birth in this world that deprived her a better life. Nobody blamed you.

You looked up yet again. Instead of your mother, it was Mari. Hanging at the tree. As the wind howled amidst the quiet backyard her body sways ever so slightly. The branch from where she hangs creaks, the rope also creaks.

And yet she was silent, unlike her, who was so noisy.

You approached your best-friend and tightly held his hand, he looked up at you, and it's like he just realized you were here. You gently pulled him up and walked back at the direction of the house.

You pushed that memory back down again. You'll never remember it again. The memory of her killing herself in front of you faded, and the gasps and cries of a dying woman became nothing but statics. The peace and quiet of Faraway Town is the only thing you've ever known.

"Basil."

You freeze in your tracks. A familiar voice calls over to you. Your blood ran cold. It felt as if your heart dropped to your knees. Ever so slowly, you looked back. You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have.

With an eye open she asks you, "Where did you learn to do that?"