Don't Give Up!

[Ducky123]

Before you read the story, I ask you to read some words about how the story came to my mind and stuff like that. It was last autumn in german class. It was just a voluntary creative task back then to write a story about a young person who is hopeless, not seeing a way out of their situation until they eventually do find a way out. I was inspired instantly and started writing. I was surprised by the result. I think this is even better than my fanfictions but that's up to you to decide since I might be biased

Anyways, I was thinking about a situation that would make me personally really hopeless and I think nobody will disagree that the loss of the persons in your life who are most important to you is the most terrible thing that we could face. The main character - a girl whose age and name is unknown to the reader, tells the story from her view. A second important character will also be unnamed and it isn't clear how old he is. These things are not important for the story so I left them out. In case you haven't guessed by the title already, I warn you that the story might be an emotional read so... be prepared

I don't think there's anything else to say for now. Go ahead and read it (and, hopefully, enjoy it ). It's 7600 words in length.

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Don't give up![/b]

I open my eyes. My gaze is fixed on the inside of my pillow which I'm resting on and hugging – it's grumpled and shapeless. I wake up like that, hearing the constant drumming of heavy rain drops against my window and feeling the strong contrast between the warmth of my cover my body lay below and the piercingly cold breeze which originates from the slightly opened window. The pillow is wet – as wet as it's outside at least. The reason for that is pretty obvious: I cried... a lot, actually. For about a month I can't find sleep at night, crying myself into sleep eventually for hours.

I take a look at the clock; it's past 12 already which doesn't surprise me. Unwillingly, I get up, wiping my face dry. Only reluctantly I leave the warmth of the cover, which is keeping my inside just about warm enough not to freeze, to close the window and to turn on the heat.

Almost zombie-like I leave my room – indifferent, cold and slowly shuffling. I enter the bathroom to get dressed. A profound feeling of emptiness spreads within my body – a feeling I've got used to in the meantime which haunts and exhausts me in the morning, evening and night alike. I jump into my unpretentious, black dress. Has it really been so long since my life had been ruined? Has it really been so long since my parents... No, I can't finish that thought. Hot tears enter my eyes faster than I can guard against the outbreak, faster than I can fight against the tears. Only due to a high effort I can make them cease prior to them leaving my eyes completely and suppress the strong urge to cry out.

I look into the mirror while I'm rubbing my eyes dry. I look into the face of a girl, gaze into these eyes expressing nothing but endless grief. My cheeks have adopted a reddish hue although I didn't cry – not really whatsoever.

In a makeshift attempt, I arrange my hair which is blonde, long and straight but disheveled from sleep and tossing and turning around in my bed. All of a sudden, my hand makes a move towards my very heart. It feels like a thousand of needles were piercing it and tearing it apart. The pain isn't extraordinary, really – I feel it time and again; sometimes it'd be strong and sometimes it'd be not so prominent but there nonetheless. I don't imagine the pain either. It's real pain; like an open, festering wound not willing to ever heal, only getting worse. My heart is such a severe, open wound. It doesn't want to close but opens even further with every night I wail through.

While I'm standing there, waiting for the heartache to finally subside, it actually keeps getting worse. Something deep inside my body clenches. It causes me to petrify completely, standing there as if paralysed. Only when my body is starting to tire, my body is able to relax again, the pain slowly weakening. It's still there nevertheless to remind me of the terrible disaster – remind me of my sadness, my deep grief.

Already again I'm in a mood to cry but I don't allow myself to act according to my current mood. I sit down, since my knees begin to shake uncontrolledly. I sink to the ground, powerless – worn out from standing for merely a few moments...

I take a look at my scrawny thighs, at my ailing arms. In spite of being covered by the cotton of my dress, my exposed rips are clearly visible. My face into which I was staring only moments ago is emaciated. Maybe I may be responsible for the fact that I'm so extremely skinny but I can't help it, in all honesty I can't! I seldom have any appetite to begin with and when I do eat something I find myself in front of the toilet retching fairly often. The emptiness of my stomach deep as a canyon just matches the emptiness of my heart. At first it was a pain to endure the hunger but meanwhile I just don't care much anymore. Only on occasions, my conscience can make me eat.

Just like every morning, I plan on eating some of the food my grandma prepares for me in the kitchen every morning. Although my weight has dropped significantly, I feel heavier than ever before... as if my bones were made of lead.

Getting up is much more difficult than I thought – preferably, I'd just keep sitting on the floor but the tiles are ever so cold and not comfortable at all. I heave myself up which is burdensome . Then I slowly walk towards the kitchen.
Sometimes, I wish grandma could always be around but that's not gonna happen. She has still to work since she hasn't reached retirement age yet. Back then, she pleaded and offered me to move to hers but I declined and still do so whenever the offer is repeated. The house of my parents, my home, is the only place in the world I feel close to them. It holds a lot of memories which I don't want to lose – mustn't lose, or else they'd blur out... for memories is all what's left of them. Anyway, that's why grandma visits me in the morning and in the evening though I'm usually still sound asleep in the morning. Thus, I usually only see her once a day.

Sometimes it makes me feel better seeing her but there are also these moments where I just need to be left alone – hiding and creeping away. However, there are also these moments like right now when I just want to be hugged... and I fucking don't care by whom!

While I wander through the empty house, various memories and thoughts are obfuscating my head. I feel utterly lonely which aggrieves me. Acting on instinct, I wrap my very arms around my body. Oww, I'd do anything for a warm hug right now...

I discover a short post-it of my grandma and a croissant from the baker store when I arrive at the kitchen. When I was younger, I couldn't have enough of these but nowadays its smell just makes me terribly sick. 'Nother morning I can't eat anything – slowly but surely I'm beginning to worry about that...
My listnessless is not only due to my grief and hopelessness. Rather, I've just got no strength left. If you're physically weak, you're more likely to be mentally weak as well.

I rush out of the kitchen quickly for the smell of the croissant makes me so sick that I fear vomiting – not that there's anything inside of me I could get rid of... I stop at the living room. The sickness is ceasing slowly.

I'm seized by a powerful blast of depression while I evoke numerous, happy memories. Never again I'll watch funny movies with Mum and laugh about them or defeat my Dad at a video game...

Not aware of what I'm doing, I suddenly hold one of many photo albums in my hands, sitting down on the coach – well, allowing gravity to pull me down unabatedly to be more precise...

I look at random pages, turning around page after page, until my seeking gaze discovers a very special photo. You see, it's just an ordinary family portrait, nothing special at all, but for me it's like a treasure. We just stand there; I'm positioned between my parents, both of them pulling me into a loving embrace.
My longing for an embrace returns. I just seek for somebody who is there for me, who can provide some comfort and makes me feel safe – just a bit, and who can distract me from the sorrowful reality... from the fact that no more photos are ever going to be added to the albums...

While I sit there in danger of falling into pieces due to my grief, tears begins to run down my cheeks and the photo becomes indistinct in front of my eyes. I don't wipe them away this time and I don't attempt to peter out the flashfloods pouring across my face either – I'm just lacking the strength to do so. Sometimes, it's simply better to give in, swallow your pride, show weakness and fall victim to the innermost yearning.

I'll never see them again, never hear or smell them... and never, NEVER will I be able to touch or feel them. Being close to the very two people who have always been there, taking care of me, who have comforted me when I've been upset and praised me when I've made things right, who have supported me when I've needed advice and scolded me when I've messed up... yeah, all of this I miss so undescribably much – I miss THEM, my parents, so undescribably much! My loving mother and my understanding father...

I begin to sob quietly, feeling as though I'm on a ship in a storm, without a captain, aimless and powerless against the force of nature which I'm exposed to for better or worse... Besides, there's nobody far and beyond who could help me, help to prevent the ship from sinking to its doom. Tears hit my legs. I move the album to a place next to me in order not to sully it with my ever so frequently falling tears.

The memory of this fateful day is taking over control over my mind which only increases my depression. I remember, back then, my grandma picked me up from a friend's house, driving us home without prior warning. I didn't want to acknowledge and, in a way, I couldn't and up to this day can't acknowledge what I was about to be told that day. I didn't want to believe that I'd never see them alive again and that I wouldn't ever see them smile at me... In short, I didn't want to face the reality that they're dead and, up to this day, I still can't.
They lost their lives imprisoned between metal, plastic and glass because another driver drove the highway in the wrong direction, colliding with my parent's car head-on.

As I'm thinking about it, my sobs grow in intensity. I'm even downright shaking with every sob! I pull my legs close to my body, placing my ever so heavy head on my knees; then wrapping my arms around them, stabilising my head. Even though I'm very much in favor of screaming my lungs out – screaming out all the sorrow and the misery, I refrain from doing so for I just... can't, simply cowering there and crying mutedly, lulling myself a little to console myself.

The person who caused the car accident survived though he'll be crippled and disabled for the rest of his life. Some part of me wishes it would have happened the other way around – my parents still alive and the other person dead. True, they surely wouldn't have survived without some remaining damage but at the very least they'd still be ALIVE and still THERE! Though another part of me is also in a way glad that the action took its course the way it did. The other driver will suffer for the rest of his life; he'll be in pain. As mean as it may sound... I very much hope he will suffer. I hope that he'll realise the stupidity of his actions, regretting them, and that he'll wish he had lost his oh so poor life in the crash he caused... and I sincerely hope we never meet on the street. I'm fully aware of the severeness of my words but after going through hell for a whole bloody month with no exit in sight at all you just don't give a bloody damn! He took away from me what I held dearest, destroying my life! It might be true that he didn't do it on purpose but I just can't stop blaming him or forgive him for that matter. Much rather I had been in the car, losing my life, instead of slowly withering away like a flower put into constant darkness. The pain the other driver suffers from is nothing compared to the torture I'm exposed to day after day...

I wish there was a way out but I can't find any... not in this world anyway. Religion has never had much importance in my life but I'm convinced that I'd end up in heaven; yes, that my parents went there.

Maybe we'll meet again soon... It's not the first time this thought crossed my mind but I've never been as hopeless as I am right now. Is there any sense in life left? Should I maybe just leave this world and... join them?

While pondering about death, I slowly get a little calmer. Does dying hurt? Does it take long? Nobody could give me an answer satisfying me... for who dies yet lives to tell the story? Well, except for the conversation takes place up there, that is...

The stream of tears dries out after some time which however doesn't mean I'm feeling any better... No, I'm feeling like a pile of dirt! Worse! People say you'll feel better after crying your eyes out but that's not true! Not if I only tear up and sob a little like right now anyhow... It's rare these days that I manage to reaaaaaaally cry my eyes out for I keep telling myself not to cry like a little girl crying after her mommy. Usually, I would feel better after that though. In addition to that I just can't do more than sob silently whenever I can't hold back the tears and even if I wanna bawl my eyes out it often wouldn't work. Doing it half-heartedly is only going to make everything worse and there's nothing I can do about it. It just doesn't work!
I drown in melancholy and depression, in indifferentness and apathy. The pain inside of me is about to overwhelm me and to tear me into a million pieces but I close the door, throwing away the key far and farer. I lock it inside of me which means I'm locking myself. It makes everything so much worse...

I feel like a flower withering away, like a tree ridding itself from its leaves, like a snowman melting or a body of water slowly drying out and vanish into nothingness.

*

I can't tell just for how long I've stared at the wall apathetically. Eventually, I hear somebody knocking the door. The sound literally knocks me out of my apathy, my senses slowly awakening, my brain beginning to work again. Reluctantly, my muscles move.

There's only one person who would knock on the door separating my dwelling from the corridor of the house... My grandma is out since she's at work around this time of the day. If there was something really important, she'd just call me... although I'd occasionally let it ring, depending on my state of mind...
There's only one other human possessing the key for the front door which I gave him in order to allow him to visit me even if I can't be bothered to get up and answer the doorbell.

The door he is standing behind is not locked yet he doesn't enter... not yet. I'm aware of the fact that he's waiting for me to open... and he's probably aware of the fact that his company is what I seek most right now.

I begin to feel the pain again willingly, shambling towards the door in order to open... in order to allow myself to sink into my best friend's arms. Having somebody to comfort you, is way more effective than wasting money on a therapist. My longing for comfort has been extremely strong so it's a true blessing and relief to finally get this goddamn hug I've been needing so badly.
I tie my arms around his body and he wraps his arms around mine. All these emotions – loneliness, sadness, emptiness and the ever so unbearable pain, which I feel since I woke up in the morning, had built up steadily but now the cap locking all these emotions in my heart is getting loose. I'm like a volcano about to start a nasty eruption, exploding violently or like a heavy cloud ready to unload what it carries inside all of a sudden. I can barely stand it until I find myself in my room after my friend had stripped off his jacket and shoes as well as he unloaded his school stuff (I can't attend school in my current state as much as I would like to) since he just walked over right after school.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks me, his voice heavy with concern.

I can't reply for every part of my body is shaking – not due to feeling cold but due to the pending explosion and deluge.

Since I don't respond – since I can't respond, he gently touches my cheek. He knows what is awaiting him...

The cap is forced open, the volcano blows its top and explodes with tremendous force and the deluge spatters out of my heartstrings. I lose control over my legs; I collapse as though falling unconscious, sinking into his arms, uttering a mighty cry. Then I weap into his shoulder. There's nothing I could do to stop myself. As a matter of fact, I don't want to fight. Not anymore... The louder I scream, the more bitter I sob and snivel, the more crying exhausts and hurts me, the better I feel though since the heavy weight on my shoulders is finally getting lighter. I can unload some of it but I can't really get rid of it.

Finally somebody pulls me into their loving embrace, hugs me really tight, strokes my back or goes through my hair absentmindedly. It won't calm me down – actually, it makes me bawl even louder, but it's a beautiful feeling all the same, supporting me at letting go and trying to relax.

Sometimes, it's wise to show weakness. I'm a big girl although anybody who would see me right now would tell you otherwise... A slight touch of embarrassment enters my mind but I shake it off. Doesn't the loss of pretty much everything you hold dear privilege you to cry? I think it does. If I weren't crying, I'd break due to the endless pain. I have to express my feelings, hence I do.

We sit down on my bed, since my legs still aren't under my control. My friend maneuveres me very gently and slowly while I, shaken by uncontrollable sobs, lean against his shoulder.

"Psssst. It's alright. I'm here..." I hear him whisper into my ear. He's right – he IS right at my side and hopefully for a long time, but alright is nothing.

"I know..." I mumble, my voice choked, even though I don't agree at all.
As time proceeds, things are getting worse and worse. I start calling after my mother while I'm crying. Only a faint whimper at first, it quickly escalates into lamenting screams. With any given person around me, I'd be as embarrassed as somebody can possibly be but if he is that person then my embarrassment is subdued for he understands which he's proving time and again – sometimes by speaking to me and always finding the right words to say; sometimes by holding my hand or squeezing it tightly and sometimes by leaving me alone whenever my drive for creeping away and being alone takes over.

At some point I realise I'm being swayed gently but I hardly pay attention. I only vaguely perceive what's happening and what I am told. Due to my bottomless mourning, my brain turns off and I drift away into a world which only exists in my head. Everything is alright there and I'm with my parents.
Only as I slowly calm down, returning to reality – somewhat at least, I'm becoming aware of the time that has passed. The sudden outburst of my feelings had lasted for approximately two hours and it's still seething lively inside of me. I'm lacking the strength to go on weeping. I'm too weak, hence I remain still. I'm simply lying there (I can't even remember how I got into a lying position...), sensing the caressing squeeze of my hands. It gives me strength to know I'm not alone. Nevertheless, that's not nearly enough to shake me out of my paralysis I fell into. I'm helpless. Not lacking will completely though... rather I can't carry out my will. I really want to return to reality completely, reciprocating the squeeze of my hands.

Finally, the words my friend directs at my paralysed, crying mutedly self break through my paralysis.

"How are you?" he asks, his voice calm and sympathetic. He must have noticed the tears still weeping out of my heartstrings since he strokes my hair out of my face and removes the tears – frankly, the effect doesn't last very long.

Inwardly, I admire his patience with me. If it's bothers him to care for me, he's an excellent actor. He's a true friend for he's always ready to help me – not just since my parents are gone. He does a lot of sacrifices for me yet he doesn't ask anything in return. I guess I wouldn't have made it through this horrible month marked by sorrow and loneliness if it weren't for his regular visits. Though my patience is slowly running out...

"How are you?" he repeats, since I didn't respond previously except for turning my head towards him. What am I supposed to reply anyhow? You don't have to be a visionary in order to realise that I'm shattered, feeling really terrible.

"Lousy..." I eventually reply in a choked voice. While I'm saying this, I sense the slight tickle of a tear running down my face.

That was when my friend smiled caringly. "I feared you'd say something like that." He pulls me up so that I find myself sitting on my bed instead of lying on it. I try to keep my body up but I collapse as soon as he lets go of me.

"I'm done..." I lament.

He pulls me up again but this time he supports me lest I collapse yet again.
"Don't give up..." he suddenly whispers, almost begging me. I don't catch his draft at first so I gaze at him, confused. "Hmm?" I hum in a questionary manner. He sighs.

"You mustn't give up now. You need to fight and go on but you mustn't allow yourself to fall!"

Fight? What for? Does it even make sense? These questions are whizzing around in my head. Surely I know what he's going on about. I recall reflecting upon death in the morning...

"How do you mean?" I ask weakly just to make sure that I interpreted his words correctly.

"I'm talking about the death of your..." he begins but then he seems to realise that it hurts me talking about it so openly. "Well, y'know."

Yes, that's what I thought. He probably thinks that I might give up; that I might like to say goodbye to my life. Well, he would be right about that...

"Yeah, I know right..." I grumble, depressed. "It hurts so much..."

He nods. "It'll always hurt, you know? But as time moves on, it'll get easier, although it'll never really stop. You learn how to deal with it eventually."

This is not the first time we talk about this subject. Both of us know that we're actually talking about something else though.

"Then why does it get worse and worse instead of improving?" I inquire. I'm utterly desperate. It's been a month now since I've been told about it and the punch into my stomach still hurts the same. Am I ever going to learn to live the life of an orphaned girl?

"You can't seem to process all of this... you cling to everything so desperately."

Is that what I do? I guess so but what's so bad about mourning about the time I wasn't orphaned?

"You have to learn to look at what's ahead of you," he continues while I chafe the tears out of my eyes yet again. "You can't just creep into your shell for the rest of your life... can you?"

Oh yes... I can... However, I don't know whether I'm even capable of looking forward again. What expects me out there? I'm alone and I wouldn't know what to swat for in school? It doesn't make any sense anyway!

"I'm not sure I can..." I sob. It's taking me all willpower I can gather to raise my head in order to look at my friend sadly. "What is there to fight for? What expects me if I look ahead? It doesn't make sense!" I downright talk myself into a rage. It's a form of anger coming from the deepest of my heart as it seems. Neither is it directed at myself nor at my friend; it's directed at the situation that I'm caught in for a month now. If it weren't for my weakness and frailty, I'd get into a fit of rage. Why's life so unfair? Why ME!? It could've been every bloody girl on this planet instead!

My wrath turns into a frenzy. It drives me crazy! My body is tense (where the hell does it get the energy from?) and I squeeze the hands my friend offers me so tightly that I fear squashing them. It feels like I'm about to explode!

Then, all of a sudden, it stops without a warning. For the third time in only a few minutes I collapse, exhausted, landing in my friend's lap and starting to sob, my body tense. I can't move a muscle – I even feel kind of dizzy in a strange way.
"Calm down..." he tells me quietly, stroking my forehead and going through my hair. Slowly, I begin to relax both physically and mentally though it takes me a few minutes to regain control of my body.

"It's no use..." I mumble in an attempt to pick up the conversation where it left off.

"What's no use?" he asks kindly.

Everything!" I yell in despair.

My friend focusses his eyes on me, his gaze studying and mustering me. Then he replies. "I understand you..."

I know that he understands me better than any other person in my life – at least better than any person still among the living... The thought causes a stinging burst of pain in my heart – almost as if somebody would pierce my chest with a spear. I try not to show the pain I'm feeling deep inside yet I jerk ever so slightly...

"Nevertheless, that's no reason to give up!"

Actually, he's right, sort of. I know there are better ways of dealing with such a situation though right now I can't find any way out but one. My conscience keeps telling me to keep going but my heart speaks a different language. My sadness and my sorrow are too strong for me to fight against...

"But it hurts so much!" I complain quietly.

"I can see that," he replies placatorily. "But you're stronger than you think! You've just gotta learn to believe in yourself! You can do it! I know you can!"

I'm almost touched by his keenness of appealing to me but I must disappoint him... I've been fighting all this time but now I'm just sick of it. What is there for me to conquer? What is left to be defended? There's only one thing I'd consider fighting for. Too bad that the battle in question has long been lost already...

I'm shocked by my use of sarcasm. Heck, now I feel like slapping myself for these thoughts though I'm not going to carry out that urge. I can't even sit so how am I supposed to find the strength required to slap myself?

Maybe my friend does understand me really well but not well enough to realise that I'm ruined.

"I'm not strong..." I retort weakly.

"But you could be strong if you kept on fighting!" He seems to be a little desperate at this point. "If you want to – really want it with all your heart, you can make it!"

"Do you really think I haven't tried already?" I exclaim. "I can't keep on fighting anymore – it won't work!"

There is a long time where nobody says anything. He seems to be deep in thoughts, puzzling what to tell me next. Eventually, he speaks up again, his voice having a scared but also a disappointed nuance to it.

"So you don't wanna go on? Wanna surrender? Give up your precious life? Why?"

Since I have to be aware of how things are going to continue for me, I'm considering my options before I reply. I can't remember explicitely mentioning that I want to commit suicide. That's the last thing I'd do – my last way out if nothing else works. What I want to happen is to stop suffering. During recent days and weeks I've tried many things but nothing worked. I've been pushed into a deep well I can't climb out. My life without my parents is lacking sense and aim. Right now it doesn't look like there's a way out... I fear that I've got no choice left for if I continue like this, I'm gonna lose my sanity!

I decide not to answer but stare at my knees in depression.

"You can be honest with me. Only if you are we can work on a solution..." my friend speaks up instead of me.

I instantly catch him emphasising "we" a lot. I can understand too well that he doesn't want to happen what I can't prevent from happening anyhow. I reckon he's going to try everything to make me change my mind.

"I'll be honest," I answer at last. "Just promise me that you accept my decision."

I observe his brain working. Surely, he has a good guess what my decision might be. I just don't want us to argue. That would be terrible for perhaps this is our last meeting and if the last thing we told each other was something mean, we'd separate in hatred while we could just go our separate ways as best friends instead...

"You wanna kill yourself, don't you?!" he hissed, panic in his voice. I attempt to stay cool in order not to show what kind of a bad conscience I actually have.

"What if I do?" I reply expectantly.

"Don't! I beg you..." he exclaims, taking hold of my left hand with both of his.

I'm actually somewhat surprised by his reaction. I mean, I knew that he wouldn't like the taste of this but I haven't yet confirmed his worst fear...

"Believe me, I don't wanna end my life. Honest..." I say, observing that my friend relaxes considerably. I wasn't finished just yet though. "But I can't help it. I can't bear this any longer and I don't want to suffer anymore." My bad conscience causes me to tear up again. "Please don't hate me..." I sob.

"It's alright, I don't hate you..." he replies quietly and soothingly. "Did you consider everything well? You sure know that you're playing with your life..."

"Yes. I've had plenty time, haven't I?" I grunt.

"And you're determined that you're going to do this?" he implies in worry.

I nod, my head hanging low. Then I start to cry again. Now that I've said these heavy words which were troubling my soul a vent inside of me opens so I can release some steam, some of the pressure.

My friend embraces me tightly while I'm sobbing and weaping bitterly. I sense we both know that this could be the last time we'd ever see each other... until we meet again wherever dead people end up. I'm trying hard to feel his comfort and it works this time. If only he could always be at my side... then I might reconsider my decision. However, that's not realistic – just like it's not realistic to resurrect the dead...

Soon I regain control over my body, getting much calmer. Maybe it's feeling the physical closeness to him that helps me to recover from my crying attacks...
"Have you already spent some thoughts on how to carry it out?" he questions me as soon as I've calmed down.

"No. I just don't want it to be painful," I reply. To be fair, I have spent some thoughts on that matter but I haven't come to a conclusion yet. "Why do you ask?" I counter.

"Y'know, I surmised you might have had some solid plans already," he explains. "I know when a fight is lost; I know that I can't convince you of suicide not being the right solution. So at least I would like to ensure that you can make peace with the world and yourself..."

I'm stunned.

"If you need any help with this, I will help you although I don't like that you do it."

His words cause a reaction inside me that I can't quite describe with words. It warms me up from the inside, filling me with gratefulness deeply. In spite of my decision to cancel our friendship – that would be the result of my demise anyway, he stays at my side. Until death do us part...The thought crosses my mind before I'm getting aware of the context these words are usually spoken in... Were I not so depressed, I'd probably have roared in laughter. Instead, something else enters my mind. Now that my life is closing in its most likely end I begin to ponder about love.

My classmates stereotyped us as "Romeo and Juliet" right away even though we were just normal friends. It seems to be beyond these people's minds that friendship between a boy and a girl doesn't always HAVE to be romantic...

Anyway, now I'm wondering why my friend is ready to let me go. I'd much rather expected him to try everything to stop me. I think this is telling me that he's very special. I think he just wants me to be happy. He's always wanted the best for me and now he's agreeing to help me commit suicide... because that'll make me happy.

"That... that's really kind of you..." I answer absentmindedly. As I'm analysing what he just said, something catches my attention. "You didn't really try to convince me though, did you?" I ask casually. Though he's appealed to me, he hasn't named good arguments yet.

"Well, I think trying to convince you with words is not gonna work..." he spoke sadly. "Could give it a try though..."

"Leave it at that..." I grumble, sighing quietly.

"Sure, just let me tell you one more thing, okay?"

I nod without showing much interest in what he's telling me.

"Knowing that you'll soon step out of my life really hurts. I think I've at last figured out what it must feel like to lose somebody you hold dear and how much it hurts deep inside."

Again I nod but this time he has my full attention.

"I just want you to know that you mean a lot to me," he says quietly.

Now I'm all ears. What'll come next?

"You're my best friend and I really like you, hence I don't wanna lose you..."

"But I really like you too," I reply somewhat shy. The funny feeling returns. I still don't know what exactly I'm feeling but instinctively I know it's positive. I realise my body is mobilising some supply of power so I haul up myself into a sitting position on the edge of my bed without leaning against my friend. I succeed.

Sensing his gaze, I turn my head towards his.

"Yeah, I knew that," he replies after a while, smiling a little.

Weren't I so depressed, I think I would return the smile. I honestly can't remember the last time I smiled – probably when we met on the day of my parent's death. We used so laugh so much whenever we were spending time together. Sometimes, it seems as though we had grown up, becoming serious and less playful...

"You feel better?" he asks.

"Yeah." I don't need to think about this. The fact alone that I'm not crying right now proves that I'm feeling better. "Why do you ask?" I wonder.

"You seem stronger now and you're not crying," he responds. And he's right... "Thus I thought..."

I interrupt. "Ah, I see."

"Right, so should we talk about how to do it or did you change your mind?" he then asks me. For a short moment I'm confused but then I get what he's referring to.

"Er... sure," I say. "If you're still up to helping me..."

"I do!" he confirms, looking into my eyes full of determination.

"Very well..." I mumble quietly, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you already have a rough plan?" he questions.
It sure does sound strange to discuss the way best to kill oneself... as if we were debating what to wear for a party. Actually, the thought is so absurd that my answer ends up having an ironic touch.

"Well, it should be something that works for certain..."

"So you don't have one?"

I nod.

"Right... so what ways of killing yourself come to your mind?"
Yes, good question... there's...

"Shooting me, hanging myself, jumping off a tall building or a bridge, consuming poison or taking an overdose of drugs, jumping on the tracks, opening an artery, starving myself to death..." I list matter-of-factly.

"You're already avidly working on the latter," my friend jokes though he doesn't laugh about it.

Me neither.

"Not on purpose..." I counter. "Yet..."

"You want a painless death, right?" he asks.

"Yeah, I do," I answer.

"Well, you sure as hell know that starving to death takes a long while and it's torture..." he states, assuming I'm aware of that.

"It's not like I said it's my preferred option..." I grumble.

For the next couple minutes we carry on the discussion until I've made up my mind.

"So is this final?" my friend inquires softly.

I can only nod apathically. Then tears start streaming all over my face again. He wraps his arm around me while I'm sobbing quietly. It's just the fact that I've sealed my fate which frightens me but it's a big relief for me too. My survival instincts are trying to enter my mind and change my decision but my innermost yearning for rejoining with my parents in heaven is much stronger. Tonight I would finally join them wherever dead people go...

*

"Well, I've got to go now..." my friends says in a grave voice eventually. I've calmed down for a long while already, enjoying being close to him for the very last time which is barely warming me enough to prevent my inside from freezing. Now we've got to say farewell... That'll be tough for I know how much grief I cause in him. Not exactly grateful of me after all he's done, I know...

"Okay," I reply in a husky voice. Tears gush into my eyes, blurring my eye-sight. He isn't  faring any better.

"I will miss you..." he tells me quietly while we both get up from my bed we've been sitting on. Our gazes meet.

"I'll miss you too," I assure. A single tear leaves my eye, rolling down my cheek before it hits the ground. "B-but we shall meet again, sh-shan't we? I stutter.

"Of course," he replies, trying to grin at me. He fails horribly. "I will wait – wait 'till we meet again some day."

"I will wait for you too," I promise, my voice shaky. I don't get the actual message of his words at first but I shall soon enough.

He places his hands on my shoulders, glimpsing at me in a way that I can't really read in his eyes. A heavy sob hits me and I close my tearing eyes. Then something surprising happens. Unexpectedly, I sense something warm and wet touch my cheek ever so softly. The odd feeling has abruptly returned, stronger than ever before. I think I know now what I was feeling earlier already. It's affection – just what I need most. Now I'm ready to return some of the fondness I've been receiving. It's not the kind of liking I've been feeling towards him previously whenever he was comforting me. It's not just affection I'm feeling towards him, it's stronger than that. In amazement, I deduce that somewhere deep inside me this feeling has been lurking in a cage, waiting to be released. I guess my friend just found the key.

I open my eyes in bewilderment. His are fixed on mine, mine on his.

"I sincerely hope that you'll find your pursuit of happiness. It's waiting beyond this world for both of us." Then he embraces me passionately, starting to cry. I return this gesture instinctively, joining in his crying a little. I'm still too confused and overwhelmed by his cheek kiss to say anything at all. I've got to process this first. Since neither of us seems to be keen on disengaging, I'm having some time to do that.

Did I interpret his behavior correctly? Does he really love me? Do I? I believe to be aware of the answer. Yes, yes and yes another times! His kiss could have been an attempt to console me (it quite likely was, but then why didn't he kiss me before when I've cried far worse?). His last words directed at me were fairly unambitious although he didn't explicitely tell me what he feels towards me. It [our pursuit of happiness] is waiting beyond this world for both of us... Hence I'm his pursuit of happiness? The thought alone warms my soul. It's a sort of warmth originating from my heart and spreading to every part of my body from there. Is love a feeling that warms your heart? Undoubtedly, it is!

"I've really gotta go now..." he eventually says in depression, loosening his loving embrace. He grabs my hands instead, I squeeze his hands as well. Our eyes are locked tightly.

"We'll meet again, sooner or later..." I tell him bravely.

"Yeah... one day," he replies.

A weird, uncomfortable sort of silence evolves between us – neither of us is keen on parting ways, saying good-bye for the last time.

"Right, see you," he speaks up dully at last.

"See you," I reply, unable to suppress a smile. I haven't done that in over a month thus my facial muscles feel a little rusty.

He grins back at me. Then he takes my hands again, squeezing them tightly, before he conclusively let them go, grabbing his stuff and leaving for good.
Now I understand something he's told me earlier... Well, I think trying to convince you with words is not gonna work. He wanted to convince me through action not to commit suicide. He kissed me to show me how important I am for him and how strong the bond between the two of us is... and how much he likes me... In a way, he's opened my eyes in that regard. Perhaps I should think it over?

*

I wake up. Through the open window I can hear the birds tweeting and singing ever so mellifluous and the trees swaying in the gentle breeze. I've just had a pleasant dream though I can hardly recall what happened in it.

I hear somebody in the kitchen – probably grandma. She came by for a short visit in the evening (I ate the croissant she brought me in the morning) and right now she's more than likely preparing my breakfast.

I take a look out of the window. The sun is shining brightly. Curiously, I feel unusually bright this morning. Is it just coincidence that it was raining yesterday when I was really down while the sun is shining today which seems to fit my current mood perfectly well?

All of a sudden, I sense gnawing hunger. Following my stomach (and my nose), I get up, walking towards the door. Leaving my room, I walk into the kitchen where I indeed meet my grandma.

"Good morning, grandma!" I greet her.

"Oh, good morning dear! Was it me waking you up so early?" she replies.

"Nah," I answer. "What's for breakfast?"

Catching her confused glimpse, I erupt into laughter, laughing heartily 'till it hurts. It feels soooo good.

A little later, my stomach filled with more food than I used to eat in a week, I'm sitting at my desk, holding my mobile in my hands. I type in a number, sending a short but terse message to the mobile of the addressee.


"Hi, I've changed my mind about something. Gonna drop by at yours later if you like.

PS: I love you."


I have to smile. This message is going to make somebody's day...

Then I go outside to take a look into the azure sky. I'm thinking about my parents – and it doesn't make me sad anymore.


"Mum, dad? I love you and I know now that I'll never be alone because you're always there!"


This message I send with the power of my thoughts. I don't know where to send it but I know it'll arrive.

I've found a way out of hell. Now everything will be fine!

~~~~<>~~~~

I really hope you've enjoyed reading this. Please feel free to tell me what you think about it! I'm really curious if this is well done or if there's still stuff I should improve

Big thanks to rhombus for proofreading, was really helpful

I also found this piece of music quite fitting for the story.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlWRiZo7T4I#