*Suicide is mentioned in this chapter.*
No POV
A kid with pastel colored hair running from his problems.
Pushing his way through the unusually packed side walk.
He has tears running down his face in a constant stream.
No one is paying any attention to him. He doesn't care.
He's dead inside. He's broken. He doesn't know what to do. He just wants the pain to end. He hates himself. He hates himself for not being strong. He hates himself for being useless. He can't think straight no more. He thinks of his cousin's panicked face, his aunt's face full of regret for keeping a secret she shouldn't have, he thinks of his twin's choked sobs, and his mothers empty eyes. It's his fault. He should have been with his brother. If he'd have been there. If. He had. It should have been him. He shouldn't be here, his brother should.
He wants to just sleep forever.
He thinks of his brother lying in that black shiny casket in his baby blue suit with his black hair that usually hung in front of his bright green eyes that were now closed forever styled to perfection. His brother is gone forever. He's never going to see him smile again.
"Hey kid watch it!" A man in a business suit yelled pushing the boy to the ground.
"Fuck you!" The boy yelled after the man who was now walking away.
The boy pushed himself off the hard concrete and started walking.
He walked to a place he never wanted to go again. The place his father beat the hell out of him and his brother every time he laid eyes on them. The place his brother took his own life. The place he called home.
His own personal hell.
He walked through the door and down the hall to his room.
He sat down at his desk and pulled out paper and a pen. He wrote a note to the people he cared about.
The note read:
I'm sorry.
Faking a smile is so much easier than facing the truth.
But I'm tired of smiling.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Every day is a battle and I'm tired of fighting. I'm losing myself more and more every fucking day and I can't stand it! I can't escape my own thoughts.
They tell me I'm worthless.
A freak.
Fat.
A mistake.
The voices in my head are trying to kill me.
And they have finally won.
Goodbye.
~Jonathan Chance Nite
A woman with short blonde hair rushed through the front door of her home calling her son's name. Each time she called his name she got louder and louder, still no reply.
She ran down the hallway to her son's bedroom to find the door locked.
"JOHN!" She yelled banging on the door.
No reply
"JOHN! JOHN PLEASE!" She yelled on the verge of panicking.
She's already lost one child she can't lose another. She can't lose her baby boy.
"DAD!" She yelled
A white haired man in a suit and tie came running down the hallway
"THE DOOR IS LOCKED! HE WONT ANSWER ME!"
"SEBBY HELP ME BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN NOW!" The man yelled to the young man standing beside him.
They broke the door down on their third try to find the boy with pastel colored hair sitting on the floor in a puddle of blood. He was unconscious and barely breathing. They saw the note sitting beside him stained red and the blade beside it.
An ambulance was called.
The boy survived.
He wished he hadn't.
He quit eating.
He quit sleeping.
He was broken.
Even though he was alive, he felt dead.
He's hungry. But he doesn't feel like eating.
He's tired. But he can't sleep. He's scared of the nightmares he'll have.
He's sad but he can't cry no more.
He's suicidal but he can't die.