Depression Kills

Chapter 5

Even though these people decided to take their lives away, most were happy. This is a new life. A restart. I was going to like it here.

"I'm Marc by the way," he told me.

He was cute, not just cute but hot. He had blue eyes with grey lining his pupils. His hair was messy and short with a dark brown almost black shade. He was surprising tan but as light hit him he'd go pale.

"I'm Skylar," I said softly.

"That's a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl like you. I don't see why you would ever kill yourself."

"Well people didn't believe that while I was living. So is this like a new world, and new place to live once you're dead? I don't get it," I said in confusion.

"Well, yes, most of us didn't have a long life or didn't fulfill it the way we intended to. This, this is a start over. A new beginning. Meet friends, lovers, people who encourage you. Or follow your dreams. And we really have no issues because if someone does something wrong they are sent to hell," he cleared things up for me.

He stopped and looked in to my eyes. Leaning his head a bit. I looked down, a guy has never dared to look at me that way before. A

"I just don't get why you killed yourself. If it isn't too hard for you please tell me," we continued to walke around this new world.

"Well... Where to start? My father abused me. Big one there. People treated me like dirt for absolutely no reason. Oh and I had lots and lots of insecurity on how I look. I still sort of do. Killing myself made me think that I could disappear from it but obviously I guess it doesn't. Ending a life at age fifteen isn't what u wanted but it was my last resort. Now, please tell me why did you?" I answered him.

He nodded. I guess many other people suffering from depression had the same issues. I never had friends with depression, or friends really, so I wouldn't know.

"Well, like your story, my parents also abused me. They kicked me out for various reasons I can't remember correctly, and couldn't remember after my death. But I didn't know how or could find a way to live on my own. So I killed myself. Oh and by the way I got here about a week ago. Well that's when I killed myself. So you'll understand this place fast."

I looked back in to his eyes. I wasn't pitiful yet sorry for him. I decided to ask him questions about himself to clear the mood.

"So how old are you?" I decided to ask.

"Sixteen and still didn't live to get my drivers license," he chuckled lightening the mood.

We started walking towards homes. I guess is where some of the dead around here lives.

"Did you get a number when you got here?" he asked, "It is your address."

"No I didn't actually."

"Well that means your house isn't made yet, the workers of the dead must search your soul to figure out how to make the perfect home for you."

"Oh, do they like control our lives too? Determine our fate and destiny?" I kid around.

"Actually yes. We were probably created to meet by them I'm sure. But you can stay at my home if you'd like," he offered.

"Sure, thank you that's very sweet of you."

"Anything for a pretty girl like you."

We walked a while further. Very quiet, I didn't know how to except or return a compliment. I've never gotten one before. He seemed very outgoing or happy. Being alone seems to hurt him.

We stood in front of a black and red house. Band names and music notes were spray painted around it. Even though it was very vandalised, I liked it. There was so many bands on it that I loved.

"Well we are home."

"I love this house! Did you vandalise it like this?! It's absolutely amazing!"

"No, it was the house given to me. Or maybe us if that's the destiny thing or whatever. I had the same reaction, come on in to the inside," he said smirking.

We walked up to the door. He took out his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it open. It was amazing! There were instruments everywhere. Acoustic, electric and bass guitars. Millions or pianos and keyboards, drums, etc. He had a huge flat screen television, entertainment systems, radios, but there was still band names all over the walls. The ones I love, that speak to me.

"They try to spoil you here, give you the life you asked for and didn't get. One others thought we didn't deserve, when in reality we deserved not to be treated the way they hurt us," Marc assured me.

"Oh... Well I love it. I don't think I ever and want to leave this house," I said with a wide grin.

"Im not sure if I ever want you to leave either," he's such a flirt. I wasn't used to it, "Here, you can stay in the empty bedroom. It's pretty plain, well for now."

We walked down the thin hallway of the house. My eyes wondered as we stopped at two doors at the end of the hall. It was long and narrow. Maybe open concept homes just wasn't his thing. I don't know.

"This door is my room, so if you need anything come here," he assured me pointing to the door on the left, "And this door is your room."

He slowly opened the door. The room was a dark shade of purple, almost maroon with a black accent wall with all the things I love on posters or frames alining it. The was a queen sized bed against the wall the the left. With wardrobes and bedside tables, the usual bedroom. But what really caught my eye... The middle wall smack in the center... There was a huge window with a window seat. The seat was black and with red that looked like blood stains it wrote, self-harm, pill, disaster of suidide. Which I thought was deep. It was for me. But it's something this new world will never let me forget. After death, you start over here. This is the sanctuary that won let you defeat depression and hurt. I liked that.

"That's odd... It didn't look that is before. And what is with the window seat? That was not there at all!" Marc sounded asstounded.

"Maybe the workers of the dead or whatever created this for me. The window seat... The window... It says a lot for me," I let out.

"Explain," he motioned me to go on.

"Every time I would self harm, I'd sit on the windowsill of my bedroom. Losing faith in humanity doesn't mean losing faith in the beauty of the world. Yes, people crush and destroy all beauty of it, but windows are like capturing the picture and framing what's left of it," I told him.

"That's actually beautiful," he said, "I would never think of it that way. Well now you see the split of the dark and light woods. Dark woods hold back the demons from hell getting in and the light woods keep the angels from stumbling, getting lost, and falling in to a world the don't belong. The workers of death work with Satan to make sure the system works. As Satan is to keep all demons and evil souls locked in hell. Do you think your window can capture the beauty of that?"

"I'm sure it will."

I walked over to the window seat and brushed my finger tips along the cusion. Marc followed only inches behind me. I sat down with one leg folded and the other dangling off the side.

"There is room on the seat for one more," I said pulling him down across from me.

He sat both legs crossed and leaned further, "True. But I don't need a window to see beauty, I can only look inches away from me and see the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Which out of anyone here, deserves this the most."
I grinned.  In a way I do deserve this, a chance to start over. But I couldn't survive the life I was truly given. My grin quickly changed to a frown. Marc grabbed my hands.

"Why don't we take another walk," Marc offered, "And I'll never let go."