WARNING WARNING WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SELF-HARM AND SUICIDE!
Proceed with caution.
It's an insatiable hunger that circles a bottomless pit. A thirst no drink could ever hope to quench. An emptiness that could never be anything more than absolute nothingness. Yet there was a longing. No, a needing to be filled. Satisfaction that could only come from completion. The ultimate undoing that would miraculously become a satisfying means to a terribly drawn out end. With brain chemistry so intact and held by an individual with a painstakingly high IQ, only he could enact the most perfect and well fitting demise.
Eddward didn't want to die. On the contrary, he just didn't want to live anymore.
He couldn't live like this anymore.
Kevin was right. This wasn't living anyway, it wasn't really surviving either. No, this was just a pitiful existence. An existence that was about to come to a permanent and absolute end, and that was terrifyingly thrilling.
Suicide was the ultimate form of control. The power to end one's own life how he saw fit. Nobody could take that away from him.
Eddward tentatively closed the door behind him. Normal parents would've noticed his absence, but his never did and they never would. Normal parents would've taken the conversation at dinner seriously. No, not normal parents, loving parents, caring parents. Parents who actually wanted their child. They'd notice something was wrong, they'd listen to him. What more could he do? Slice himself up and hang himself from the ceiling like a slaughterhouse showcase.
Is this what it felt like to hit rock bottom? Is this how Jensen felt? Jensen… he was dead. Actually dead. He did it. He committed the ultimate feat, he ended the pain. He…
He ended the pain.
He ended the suffering. Just like that. It was that easy. It could be that easy.
It was that easy.
He envied Jensen. He didn't deserve to play the victim. He was the bully. He was the one who made his life hell. So, why did he get to make it all go away? No, he didn't get to win.
Eddward felt his heart constrict. It was hard and tight. His skin was clammy. Make it stop, please just make it all stop.
Make it stop.
That was the solution. Make it stop. Make it all stop. End it.
There was nothing left for him here anymore. His parents wanted a trophy son and he would never fill the pristine crease-free shoes they had set out for him. Kevin hated him, despised him even. Marie… she'd be okay, he was never going to be the right man for her anyway. Eddy and Ed, they could lean on each other. There was no real `reason left for him to be here.
An irrational yet serene calming sensation swept down his spine and centered him to his core. He was consumed in painstakingly, pristine clarity.
Tonight was it, he'd made his eminent decision.
The end of an era.
The end of an existence.
The end of Eddward.
Eddward gripped the railing as he ascended the staircase. He made his way to his bedroom slowly. Once inside he stripped out of his hoodie and shirt. After he discarded them onto the floor he slipped out of his pants. He was left standing there in his boxers and his beanie. This would suffice. He retrieved his phone and looked at the screen. No new messages or missed calls.
Kevin had told him he'd always answer his call, but this was different. He was done. They were both done. Just different kinds of done. Kevin was done with his relationship with Eddward, but Eddward was done with his relationship with the world. Eddward wanted his loophole and now he had it. Kevin wouldn't answer.
He'd told Eddy he wouldn't cut right now and that was true because now it was technically later. Eddward was always crafty with his wording. He knew how to manipulate and twist words to work to his advantage. It came with his high intellect, but now even he couldn't save him from himself.
He gripped his phone tightly in his hand and turned to leave his room. Once in the hall he noticed his parents bedroom door was closed and the light was off. He made his way down the hall and knocked tentatively on the door. He waited a moment and then knocked again a little louder. He wasn't sure what he would do if they answered considering he was clad only in his underwear. Maybe this would be the incentive they needed to take him seriously.
"Mother, Father, are you awake?" He asked and was met with no response.
Was he looking for another loophole? A reason to stay? Why else was he possessed to seek out comfort from parental figures who didn't acknowledge anything, but good grades.
"I wish to speak with you," he said as he opened the door.
The room was cast in complete darkness. He clicked the light switch on to see a neatly made bed. They weren't even here. Did he imagine them coming home? Was this all just a ruse? Another hitch to add to his breaking point. He scanned the room. Was there a note? Did they hide another post-it note somewhere in the house?
"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said to no one as he closed the door.
His hand lingered on the doorknob as he opened and slammed it again. Then he opened it and slammed it again. And again. And again.
"Why was I never good enough for you? Why was I never enough for you to stay?" He cried as he let go of the doorknob, "why don't you want me?"
He stumbled back as he made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the light switch on and looked into the mirror. His beanie was crooked and a few extra hairs poked through from underneath. His lips were dry and cracked. He felt sweaty and hot all over even though he was almost naked.
That mask he had spent years perfecting was finally gone. Crumpled up and broken just like him. He'd spent two and a half years hiding Double Dee. Telling people he was dead when in reality he was right there staring back at him. But tonight would be different. Tonight he would end it all. There would be no more pain, no more suffering.
No more Eddward.
With one final and painful look in the mirror, he punched it. His fist collided with the cool reflective material and it shattered all around his hand. He pulled his fist out and noticed he had a few nicks and cuts on his knuckles and fingers. Fresh blood freely poured down his hand and onto the discarded shards in the sink. It was remarkable how tiny cuts could bleed so much.
More. He needed more.
In the broken pieces he saw bits of his reflection all staring up and mocking him. All these Double Dee's were broken and covered in blood. He needed to finish the job. He opened the vanity drawer and grabbed his razors from their hiding place.
Hello friends, remember me? It's been a while. Let's play one last time.
He grabbed one and perched it delicately between his fingers. He looked to his arm right below his wrist where all his creations lay single file in nice, neat little rows. With the razor gripped tightly he quickly swiped across. Not too much pressure, but enough to draw some blood. The sting hit him and he reveled in its warm embrace. More blood started to dot and pool before breaking free and slipping down his arm. He watched the blood break out in multiple trails as it raced down his arm and splashed onto the floor. A sadistic grin twitched on his face. This was his final race and he was going to win.
More. I need more.
He made his way to the tub and plugged the stopper. He turned both knobs so warm water sloshed out of the faucet. He put his arm under the fast running water and then quickly withdrew. It stung, but in a good way. He smiled as the tub continued to fill. He had five more razor blades in his pack and he quickly dropped them into the water. He only needed one to get the job done, but what better way to go out then with his only true friends beside him during his final moments. When the water reached close to the top of the tub he shut the tap off. His razors glistened and shone underneath the water like silver, sparkling stars of destruction waiting in the abyss. Eddward looked at his phone one final time, but nothing was there for him.
No hope.
No salvation.
No one to stop him.
Did he want someone to stop him?
He shut his phone off and set it down on the edge of the sink. He made his way back to the tub and slowly lowered his foot in. The water was warm and inviting. He lifted his other leg over and slowly sank into the tub. The water was filled to the max and began pouring over the rim and onto the tiled floor. Eddward looked at the mess and sank back further allowing more water to pool over. There was no point in caring about messes anymore. The biggest mess was about to be eradicated from this world.
His heart was thumping so hard he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He was jittery and his fingertips tingled with adrenaline and anticipation. He looked at his left wrist where all his beautiful marks were, well they were perfect until he viciously slashed across them with graceless tactile. He had to fix that. They deserved a proper burial.
He gulped as he reached down below the water and let his fingers roam until they came up against the chosen razor. He grasped it delicately between his fingers as he let it emerge from the depths of the tub. His fingers twitched against the precious silver instrument as he gripped it tightly. Water droplets slowly fell as he brought it precariously to his wrist and let the tip sit against the awaiting flesh. His left arm was resting on the edge of the tub and he looked on with delight as blood trailed down into the water. Like beautiful streams of destruction waiting for the dam to finally break. He took a deep breath as he applied the tiniest amount of pressure in the center right near a twisted blue vein. He shut his eyes tightly as his heart thudded erratically in his chest.
Come on Eddward, you can do this. Don't let Jensen win. If he can escape so can you.
With a final burst of courage fueled by countless desolate emotions he pressed the blade down hard, and deep. He hissed at the sudden abrasive sensation, but refused to pull back. This was it, there was no turning back now. Instead he pushed harder and dragged the blade further up his arm until it became too much. He let his arm fall away and the razor fell into the water. The burning sensation was overwhelming, but he couldn't open his eyes just yet. Realization shot through his body and rocked him like a sudden burst of lightning.
What had he done? Did he really just do it, just like that? Maybe he was in shock or disbelief. Was this really happening right now or could this be another fabrication of his nightmares. After a moment he opened his eyes and gasped. No, this was all very much real. He was used to seeing a trickle of red and having to prod at the cut to see more blood, but this… this was tantalizing. Blood gushed out, hot and thick as it poured down his arm in plentiful streams. Waves of nausea bore through his petite frame and shook him. He felt lightheaded and almost like he was floating. As the strength to support his arm left he let his arm fall into the tub and gasped at the sudden sting of water against his weeping flesh.
It burned. It stung. It actually hurt. Cutting had never really hurt before this. But now…
There was no going back.
Eddward choked on silent sobs and watched as his blood began to disperse in the water. It was tainting his bathwater pink, but slowly blurring into a bright crimson red. He began to pant as he laid his head back against the edge of the tub. Chills began to rock through his body in tremors and he shivered although he shouldn't be cold. He was encased to the brink in his lifeblood, but even that wasn't enough to keep him warm. He thought back to the night Jensen stabbed him. There was so much blood, but not quite as much as there was right now. His vision became hazy and when he opened his eyes back up he had a moment of painful clarity.
This was it. Here he was, slowly dying in a bathtub alone. He was dying. There was no stopping this now. There were so many things he would never get to do. So many things he would never accomplish. So many regrets. Should he have tried harder? Would he even be missed? Yes,his friends would be upset and they would grieve, but in the grand scheme of things he'd be forgotten eventually. They'd come to peace with his extinction and move on. One day the world would forget Eddward even existed.
Stop. Please, stop.
Stop what exactly? Because the only thing stopping would be his heart. Soon enough it would all be over and Eddward would be no more. Eddward had been preparing for this moment for a while now. With every cut he took he was gaining the momentum to take full control. Fate would never again decide his outcome. He controlled his own destiny. He would control his own death. He'd been sure about that since he started this dangerous endeavor.
It was laughable now. Control... what control?
He was spiraling down the drain. When the cleanup crew came they'd unplug the tub and his blood would swirl down the drain and out of existence just like his soul. Time seemed nonexistent now as the edges of reality blurred. Had he been here for a few minutes? A few hours maybe? Was he already dead? What was waiting for him on the other side?
He could faintly make out wailing sounds coming from the room now. Feeble shouts and cries that would soon fall on deaf ears. Eddward was sure he wasn't crying. He didn't have the energy. His skin felt prickly and numb, yet he felt someone grabbing him? An angel? God? The Grim Reaper? He didn't posses the willpower at this point to open his eyes let alone try to talk. A familiar musky scent filled his nose and he inwardly relaxed although he wasn't sure if his body was corresponding in the same way his soul was. If the thought of Kevin was going to carry him out of this horrible existence and into whatever awaited him then maybe he truly had found peace.
Jumbled up words and sounds were trying to penetrate through his ears, but Eddward was pretty sure there was nothing left of him to save now. A crumpled up, deflated body of a destroyed boy was all that remained. A weak and fragile body he refused to recognize as his own.
Eddward felt his eye open with no force of his own behind it.
Who are you? Have you come to take me?
Hazy outlines of familiar faces graced the room. There were a couple of them with no real distinct form. Their bodies all blurred like paintbrush water after an artist discarded a color. Nothing made sense, yet everything was okay. A firm and familiar touch was gripping at him and comforting him. This was nice. He felt like a baby being cradled against a nurturing mother. Something he had never experienced before.
As the last bits of his sanity gripped at his conscious mind one face came to mind. And he held on to that face for as long as he could. A strong jaw with a half smirk planted on lightly chapped lips. Light ginger freckles skipped across tan skin that was kissed by the sun. A few strands of thick red hair fell loosely out of a well-loved and childhood cherished baseball hat. Beautifully sculpted green eyes carved from marble held his stare and he swam to them through murky, bloodied water. He needed to be near that face. It was the only thing that felt like a true home to him.
Along the way there were torn and battered sticky notes that protruded from the water like boulders caught in red water rapids. Some were drenched in the bloody water as it lapped against them. Others stuck to his skin and the harder he tried to shake them off the more they seemed to appear. They were heavy and they were carrying him down further and further like chains that bound him in his failure. He was sinking farther from that handsome face and further down into the cold depths of a rocky and jagged ocean floor. It was unnaturally cold and dark down here. He looked up and he could see the stained walls of his bathtub. He reached up and tried to grip the sides, but they were wet and slimy with thick warm blood. Razors were nestled at the top and as he tried to grab hold they lashed out at his beaten and abused flesh.
The harder he tried to tighten his grip the more he slipped until he was falling down even further until he crashed to the bottom. Broken shards of mirrors with his reflection glistened all around him. They laughed at him in his pitiful existence in limbo. Water was rushing by his ears as it flooded into his mouth. His lungs were filling up and his chest was cracking under the pressure. He could feel his lungs tearing at the seams like an over inflated balloon. There was a tugging like someone was pulling him away from this dreaded place. The harder he tried to stay the more pain he felt. His fingers were cut up from trying to hold onto the scraps that remained of himself. It felt as though twisted metal wire hangers were digging in under his fingertips trying to edge him away from refuge. He looked up from the bottom of the tub. That face was so far away now that he could barely make out its features anymore. It was almost unrecognizable. It would be so easy to let go, just let go and slip away into the awaiting nothingness.
Reality was setting in and Eddward needed to accept that not all stories had a happy ending, especially when you were the villain in someone else's story. As the last stretches of sanity struggled to keep him in this world, wherever that may be, one final thought came through.
Was I ever in control or was I doomed from the start?