Hey all, this is the fourth part of the series; I'm so cruel to them all aren't I? Lmao.
Cedric sat in his cold, dark room. He slowly gazed around him, his shelves filled to the brim with trophies and his walls cluttered with photos and certificates. His dressing table was crowded with various awards. Glancing in the mirror he caught his reflection. He was everything any guy would want to be. Tall, tanned, handsome, well structured. Everyone thought he was perfect. Everyone thought he came home to this perfect, white picket fenced home, to a loving mother and father.
But they were wrong…
He looked down at the blank piece of paper. He chewed on the end of his pencil, thinking of water he could write.
He hated winning; he hated the illusions people created about him. His father slammed a door somewhere downstairs.
'He must be drunk again,' he thought.
He heard his mother scream. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to block out the sound of her yelling and his fathers abusive screaming. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
'I hate him.'
He lifted his head as he heard footsteps approach his room. The door was slowly pushed open and his father's dark figure lined the doorframe.
He entered the room.
"Dad…please no more," his voice shook.
"Shut up boy, you little ungrateful son of a bitch," he yelled, clenching his teeth and punching the boy. Cedric yelled out as he hit the wall, feeling the sickening crack of several ribs snapped.
His father stormed from the room, a few minutes later he heard his car start and pull out of the driveway.
Moaning in pain Cedric sat up. He hated his father. He pushed him to hard. He forced Cedric to live out his own dreams.
He knew now what he must do.
Wincing in pain he sat back at the desk looking at the blank sheet of paper.
'Here goes nothing,' he thought to himself.
After filling the page he placed it on his pillow and sat at the end of his bed. He looked around himself at the awards and trophies. Feeling his anger rise he cried in rage and stood up. Storming around the room he smashed everything he could find. Tears running down his face, he knocked all the shelves off the walls and watched his trophies break.
Crying desperately he slumped into the corner of his darkened room, rocking back and forth, he shook himself.
"Stop it Cedric," he muttered, "weakling."
Glancing at the mess of his room he saw in his fit of rage, his note had fallen from his bed. He walked over to it and picked it up. Smiling fondly he ran a finger up on side of it. He placed it gently on his pillow once more.
He took a seat on his windowsill. He gazed lovingly from his second story window, looking over his hometown. He looked up at the full moon and sighed. Reaching into the drawer he pulled it out.
The single gunshot rang out over the moonlit town.
His suicide note sat on his tear stained pillow.