Looking up from the handful of pills that he had just poured, Mathew began to ponder the reason behind the act he was about to commit. Suicide was not something to be done without consulting several places, and considering the risks or factors. He didn’t mind knowing that his family would be crippled, or his best friend would probably follow him in the same act, because he knew that this would be a permanent solution. It may not be able to fix everything that was a problem, but it would remove him from the equation. Christian standards no longer mattered to the boy. Suicide is self-murder, he thought to himself. Murder does not condemn you to eternal damnation or hell, it simply is something washed by the blood of Jesus. Blood will not be shed. This is a narcotic, and will eventually lull me into a deep sleep, which I will not awaken from. Or will cause liver failure. Not caring about the risks, Mathew took his first pill, out of many to follow. He then began to think about what had led up to this. Pulling a sheet of paper from the drawer, he began scribbling letters, then words, then thoughts, about as to why he was doing this. My Father who never cared? My pesky sister? My over-dramatic mother? The stress of school, and never being successful? Or was it everything combined? Raising his head, he tried to make since of why he was doing this, and when the effects of the drug he just consumed would begin.
The first day of the junior year was a grueling task for any teenager. Matthew was no exception. Passing through the doors to the infamous hell that people would later recall as the reason for his attempted suicide, Matthew took note of his surroundings. Nobody was new in his class, it was just fewer people. Running down the hall, with a half-open book-bag was Ethan Redwell. Ethan was one of the few friends of Matthew, for few people lived on the internet and studied the phenomena on it as much as himself. Ethan was also a rival of Matthew’s in many ways, as his jokes were funnier, his art more developed, and his personality much more colorful. Matthew was the superior in a few departments though, with philosophy, psychology, a voice that was flowing and smooth as silk, and literature which would astound a professor at any major university. His musical talent was also unrivaled, as his fingers could smoothly pluck any selected string on a bass guitar. The two walked down the hall, exchanging laughter, as the two friends marched through the halls of their new hell. Proceeding to the dismissal area in the Cafeteria, Matthew discussed the events which had previously occurred in the summer, as several conferences, camps, and conventions had been attended. Ethan smiled, and started talking about the new video game he had beaten. A little irritated, Matthew looked away, and then down at his cell phone. A few minutes left. He thought. Then I can stop wasting my time here. Other friends had stopped and chatted with Matthew before a shrill and eerie whine interrupted his thoughts. About damn well time that bell rang. A smirk filled his face. I was beginning to think this was my only class. His classes slowly went by, the day consisting of him learning rules he already memorized. It’s common sense. Only a complete dolt would break them. A stick of gum entered Matthew’s mouth, as he finished the day, and had finally left school, to be greeted by the carpool driver, a smiling black man, whom Matthew enjoyed conversing with. This routine followed every day, for the first half of the quarter, and Matthew’s heart began to degrade, and rot away, as well as his yearning for life.
Encompassing the school year came a number of breaks, which had, instead of relieving his stress, increased it, and had made Matthew sick of the presence of any family member. His sister, a disgusting creature from Matthew’s perspective, was a whiny pre-teen, who would whine over the smallest and slightest displeasing. His father, whom was far to conceited, would comfort her by purchasing material goods which would silence her whining. When her computer broke, they bought her a new one, when they forget that she dropped it. Why reward a fault? She could have gotten my old one, whilst I receive a new one. Material goods had lost their value to Matthew. He never used any of his technology, for it brought him no joy. God forbid I get some social interaction. I could go shopping with my friends, but my over-dramatic mother won’t allow it. His mother- Matthew could tolerate one of his family members, and it was her. She would never let him go out with friends though. If I make it to 16 without going insane, I just might fix my social disorders and awkwardness. His social deprivation had driven him to about complete insanity, and even Social Networking wouldn’t help his loneliness. I want a relationship. But I don’t know any girls, and the one I did know has moved on. Jennifer. The two were in a happy relationship, but like when playing video games, he decided to cheat when he got bored. He broke the news to Jennifer, and left her, telling her to move on. She refused to, but eventually did. I told her I wouldn’t let her leave. A tear began to well in the corner of his left eye. But I did. Rage filled Matthew’s mind, as he sat on his bed. His thoughts became louder, and finally escaped through his lips. “I hate myself.” He laid down and grasped his pillow, thrusting it over his face and biting down. “I swear, that if I let emotion take over my mind again, that I will surely kill myself.” He didn’t realize that it was a promise that he would soon fulfill.
Returning to his studies, Matthew realized one thing- he loathed his school. His teachers were some of the most ignorant beings he knew, some of them would argue with a tree over whether it was sentient of not. I know some of them have, Mr. Follouc would. Mr. Follouc was a massive man, and was quite ignorant. God forbid he directly answer a question without asking why he should answer it. Such an ignorant mass would at least put enough effort into educating me as he does trying to avoid answering me. Matthew had been a bit crude, but was correct. Follouc would be indirect with everything he taught. It was annoying to Matthew, who preferred a quicker, direct approach, which would lead to a faster learning setting. I loathe him almost as much as the government. Politics had always been a factor in Matthew’s decisions, and he hated people who were uneducated about the real world they lived in. I disagree with both political parties. I’m rather inclined to independent. Matthew never was dependent on anyone; being self-sufficient had allowed him to remove the possibility of disappointment from his life. He preferred to be alone, and think in his head or on paper; yet he longed for social interaction and attention. He had a true friend, a best friend. But he was gone. I truly envy him, he was able to escape the pain of the world, and never look back. He was the sole source of joy in my life, and he is no longer here. Matthew’s vision began to blur, but he held back, remembering his oath to control his outbursts of emotion. I hate existence. It is a disgrace to the possibilities that could have been on this earth. His hatred for mankind was taken to form a view that few people could understand. When people misunderstood him, he accepted that their minds have not advanced to an open point where knowledge could not be shared in a logical way. He actually felt sorry for them, for they would never unlock their true potential as a human. We could be so much more, he would think to himself. But our limitations overweigh the ignorance of a species. How sad is it that we will never discover true happiness because of what we have done. He sounded dark when he spoke, but he never minded. In class, he would sit, absorb knowledge, and then file it away. He always regretted that he lacked memory. My memory has always been horrible. I can’t even remember conversations. He would pause while thinking. Those kinds of mistakes always screw me over. Ethan finally brought Matthew to reality, a sharp pain piercing Matthew’s deep contemplation. Matthew frowned, then turned his irritated gaze to Ethan. “What the fuck, dude? Can’t you see that I’m thinking?” Matthew turned away, taking note of the worried look on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong with you lately?” Ethan was never good at small talk. “I don’t freaking know.” Matthew paused before speaking again. “You do realize that I hate conversations, right? I’m never good at “dumbing down” my vocabulary. I hate swear words, they’re interjections. I don’t use interjections.” Ethan frowned again. “I’m just worried about you. You were never this quiet or self-contained until this year. I know your friend died, and I know I’ll never replace him, but I try to help.” Matthew stopped walking and looked at his concerned friend. “You do understand that I’m tired of life and all the shit I put up with, right? I’m tired of ignorant people, along with people who have fake sympathy. It’s so damn hard to explain…” Matthew paused, swallowed, and continued. “I have a history of suicidal acts, thoughts, depression, and causing self-harm.” Pulling up his sleeve, several deep, intricate gashes were revealed. “I cut myself. I find it quite eerie, to know how much blood a human has. I didn’t know I could bleed so much.” Ethan was astonished, and then looked Matthew in the eyes. “Dude, I… Uh…” He pulled up his sleeve, a series of random, infected-looking scars showed themselves. Matthew cringed. “That is disgusting. At least I have hygiene when mutilating myself. Your arm will fall off, dumbass.” The two finally found laughter in their discussion, which was the first bit of joy Matthew had emulated in a long time. Ethan finally decided to speak again. “I was suicidal too. I still am.” Matthew displayed a smirk on his face. “How about a true display of friendship?” Ethan cocked his head to the side, unaware of what Matthew was implying. Assuming Ethan was uneducated on what he had implied, Matthew continued. “A suicide pact is an act in which two individuals of a similar condition, association, or affliction create an agreement in which two people will commit suicide, on the basis that one were to kill himself…” Ethan was still confused. “Basically, if I die, you die, and vice-versa.” Matthew affirmed this with a simple nod. “You are correct. Both of us will use the same method. Please make it painless, if you do- I don’t like to do things the messy way. I know several painless and efficient methods.” Ethan looked at Matthew. “Follow me.” Matthew and Ethan went to the bathroom, where Ethan drew a knife from his pocket. “A Blood pact?” Matthew frowned. “I don’t believe in such nonsense, but I’ll play along.” He paused, thought, and spoke again. “Do you have any diseases that could be transmitted? Ethan looked irritated at this comment. “No. Now hold out your palm.” Ethan sliced a simple cut through Matthew’s hand. Matthew had felt no pain though, and didn’t even cringe. “My turn.” A blood-covered knife made its way through Ethan’s hand, revealing a darkened red liquid, which covered the hilt. Ethan then grabbed the bleeding hand of Matthew. “If one of us is to perish, the other shall as well. If not, may the dishonorable one die a thousand deaths, and suffer eternal humiliation.” Matthew smiled. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Well, I guess we should clean up this blood.” Ethan smirked. “Hell no, that’s the janitor’s problem.” The two walked into the hallway, a sock on each one’s hand, which was encased in a hardening layer of blood. They had no Idea what was going to happen next.
Matthew’s first words when he awoke from his sleep were very simple. “God dammit, not again.” He had repeated this each day that he woke up for this month, for he realized that he had not been able to will himself into non-existence. You would think I would stop trying. But alas, my human willpower isn’t strong enough to combat my brain’s natural function to not die. Dammit, that’s always an issue. He proceeded with his normal preparations, showering, grooming, clothing, and medicating. He had actually taken time to read the label this time though. Methaphetadyline- 54mg tablets. He turned it to the warning side. Warning: may cause vomiting, fainting, blackouts, or death if overused. Please contact a doctor if you overdose. Matthew smiled. Contact a doctor? Why? What could they do to postpone the inevitable? I’d embrace the awaited fate! Matthew got into the car and listened to music, a luxury that he had cherished so much. With a halt, his music had stopped, and he stepped into the hell he called school, with Ethan at his side. “Sleep well? You look like shit.” Matthew was displeased. “No, I simply had to stay up late studying for science.” Ethan looked down. “Yeah, me too. I hope I don’t fail.” Matthew cocked an eyebrow. “Science is my weak point. If I fail this final exam, I will mutilate his tires beyond recognition, and deface the side of that thing he calls a car.” Ethan was astonished at Matthew’s reply, Matthew had never been hostile. “I hate that man. If he is back next year, I will slit his throat, shove a pistol down his esophagus, remove his testicles, and shove them in his eyes.” Matthew continued. Ethan was sickened. “That is truly repulsive. What the fuck gave you that idea?” Matthew looked back at Ethan. “My demented brain, what else?” Ethan was disturbed, but continued down the hall. “You need help.” Matthew stopped, and looked at his friend. “I know. I don’t care though. I’m so fucked up, that it doesn’t matter.” Ethan smiled. “Alright, if you say so.” Their day consisted of laughter, seriousness, and ignorant people, as their day had gone by. If only each day could go by even faster! I hate waiting for the hour in which I can go home. Matthew sighed. “God forbid I have a fun or peaceful day. Such a hectic and chaos-filled day is hell for my nerves.” He was right. The stress of everyday life was getting to him. Stress filled his life, and the sheer pain of continuing life had driven him to isolation and insanity. Arriving at home, Matthew raced to his room, and withdrew a moleskin notebook from his coat-pocket. Writing was the one way he could vent frustration. Let’s see… I’ll write about ho- “MATTHEW!!!” A shrill yell had interrupted his thoughts. God dammit. “What?” Matthew sulked, as he left the security of his room, and entered the living room where the call had originated. “Will you do me a favor”, his mom inquired, a copy of Matthew’s grades on her computer screen. “No. But I will grant you one wish, choose carefully.” Matthew loved making smart-ass remarks, it was one of his abilities. His mom’s expression became irritated at the remark. “First off, stop with your smart mouth. You’re pissing me off-” Matthew interjected. “Go figure.” Interrupting his mother while maintaining a blank expression re-instated the fact that Matthew didn’t care what his mom could do to him, while asserting his position. His mom dismissed him, and he wrote about what just happened, and why he justified it.
“Shove off Matthew!” That’s what the message from Catherine said. “You’re not my type, and we’d never make each other happy! Get off, or get bent!” Matthew cringed. You could have put it nicer by saying that I should go die in a hole. Saturday. What a way to start the weekend. Matthew hated Saturdays, especially this one- his father was home. I hate that man. He is reckless, ignorant, and the reason I’m alive. Matthew frowned. The one day he had planned for a date was pointless. Life’s a bitch. Go figure. Matthew turned his attention to his father, a bipolar man, who adored his daughter, but had no need for his son unless he could serve him. I’d be better off staying in my room all day. A brief, yet humorous, thought passed through his mind. If I had a fridge, I’d be set for life. The exact date is unknown, but it had been about three months since his depression began, and his condition had progressed to the point where he had no care for opinions or punishment. His arms were gruesome and defaced, a string of cuts sprawling his body. It was about an everyday routine for him to commit some form of self-defacement. I don’t feel anything anymore. It’s like an exercise. Matthew walked into his living room, his sister pitching a fit and his father trying to quiet her. “I’m hungry”, Matthew managed to spit out. His dad, irritated, looked Matthew in the eye and replied, “Then go fix something for us all.” Matthew shrugged. “Screw you; I’ll make my own food.” As if on instinct, His father went ballistic, crossing the room and scaling a sofa to confront his son. Matthew barely flinched; he could care less if his father stuck him. Through the flying spittle and sound, Matthew uttered one simple phrase. “How barbaric.” His father froze, paralyzed by the two simple words he just heard. Matthew simply walked into the kitchen, a smug look on his face. I love doing that. Reaching into the fridge, Matthew realized that he wasn’t truly hungry. It doesn’t matter. It won’t make me feel any better. Closing the fridge door, he slumped down, with his back to the door. Why does it matter? He buried his face in his knees, shielding his face with his arms. I don’t understand. I used to enjoy life. I used to have fun. I used to give a shit. But it’s all gone now. Why waste the time? Rage pooled inside of Matthew, his hatred boiling in his anger. Matthew stood up, and proceeded to the living room. His father, hypnotized by the television, didn’t notice his presence. He’s so peaceful when his brain is rotting away from the waves emitted from the television set. Let’s shake things up. Matthew opened the door to the electricity breakers. He navigated to the switch labeled Master Switch. Matthew smiled, and moved the switch to it’s off position, leaving the house encompassed in darkness. Two screams were sounded, one in a cowardly tone, the other in a rage. “Dammit to Hell, if you turned the power off, I am going to kill you Matt!” “Challenge accepted old man. Come find me, and have your fun!” Matthew closed the panel, and ran for the door. He was almost out the door, when a massive hand gripped him. Matthew knew what came next. The other hand had evolved into a fist, which flew like a rocket at Matthew’s ribcage. Matthew gasped for air, as his father dropped him to the ground. Pain, like no other, flowed through his chest. My ribcage just broke. He was not scared, but dragged himself to his room. Grasping his phone, he dialed the emergency line. Before the operator could introduce themselves, Matthew explained the situation. “I need assistance, my ribcage is broken, and I am attempting to prevent any further harm to my internal organs.” He supplied his address, then blacked out, his brain overloading from the situation.
“Is he stable?” Matthew awoke to a voice, followed by a few others. Each one was different, and from a different direction. “Yes. His ribs are bruised, and he has one pierced his aorta. It’s a simple fix, and he’ll be alright soon.” Matthew chuckled in his head. I’m suffering from a broken heart. How amusing. “He’s regained consciousness, he’s has plenty of brain activity.” You’re damn right, I have a lot of brain activity. Emotions and thoughts filed themselves away, while he tried to process the events which were occurring. “I sure hope he’s alright. He’s kind of cute!” Matthew’s brain paused, allowing Matthew to hear those words. Dear God, that was the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. Opening his eyes, a blinding light pierced his vision. Following this, was a female face, a fair-skinned girl with dark brunette hair. My God, am I dead? “He’s awake”, the girl said, her eyes on the doctor. She turned to face Matthew. “Can you speak? How are you?” Matthew managed another quip. “I’m a human. Most of us can. I’m fine, thanks to you. How are you?” The girl smiled. “You’re quite the talkative one. I’m good, and knowing that you’re stable makes me feel even better.” Matthew blushed. “Well, when I am discharged, how about we get some lunch at-” He was interrupted by the doctor. “Rosaline, I think that will be all for your hours today. You can go home, or you can stay.” Rosaline… What a beautiful name. Rosaline pondered for a while, and then spoke. “I’ll stay and monitor him overnight. It would be a nice thing to try, my professor would think well of it.” Matthew smiled. This ought to be fun.
When Rosaline had finally settled into the guest area, Matthew began his introduction. “Allow me to properly introduce myself.” He reached out with his free arm, offering to shake hands. “I am Matthew Dustin Parker, 17 years old, in a local charter school. And what do they call you, fair maiden?” Rosaline blushed, and replied. “I’m Rosaline Michelle Jones. I’m from Cardiff, and I am 19. I’m doing internship for medical school.” Her face turned a bit more serious. “How did you get so battered up?” Her lips moved to form a frown. “We’re cool, so if anybody was beating you, or abuse, we can talk it…” Matthew’s head drooped. “I did the scars myself. The blood loss probably weakened the intake of calcium or any important nutrients, and allowed my ribcage to weaken. The breakage was from a deserved blow from my father.” He paused, chuckled, and continued. “I believe strongly in capital punishment. It’s the only effective way to discipline.” Rosaline was astonished. “Wow. I didn’t know a teenager could be so… Sophisticated… or even philosophical…” Matthew looked back at Rosaline, placing his arm on her shoulder. “I guess you learn something new every day.” Rosaline looked back and smiled. She yawned, and then looked at the clock on her phone. “Well, it’s about nine… I better make up my bed…” Matthew thought, then managed get the courage to flirt. “It could be mutual… if we shared a bed… Body warmth, you know…” Rosaline smiled. “I don’t know if what you are asserting would be… Appropriate.” Matthew replied; his voice warm and smooth as silk. “My dearest one, I don’t mean anything inappropriate. I just met you. I was just asserting that it would be comfortable to us both.” Rosaline blushed, then smiled. “I guess, under those circumstances, it would be appropriate.”
