Song Fables

Narrative 5

TW: suicide, self destructive behavior

This narrative portrays an awful mindset. The end may feel unsatisfactory. You as the reader are not supposed to be rooting for either end for him. I'm sorry if this is convoluted or confusing.

It was early in the morning; not even 3 AM. Yet, Carmine was still awake, stirring in his room. Chucks of his hair that he had torn out lay limp on his bed, as well was what remained of his flower crown. It was desecrated, the petals smeared across the floor. An overwhelming mix of guilt and anger felt like acid in his stomach, clearing the way for the bottomless pit of grossness that he felt every time he saw someone, let alone spoke. It was clear that something had happened in his room beforehand; a violent breakdown, one of many caused by the constant overstimulation and his need to hurt something. There hadn't been any knocks at his door, none that he heard. Everyone else seemed to be on their own, dealing with their own problems. Many of them were caused by him.

But in the present, as his nervous breakdown subsided, a strange aura of calmness swept through his mind. Determination, if you will. He had been sitting at the edge of his bed, crying since midnight. However, something different made him stop completely.

His actual walking wasn't like how he walked when he was around people. When he was around people, Carmine would walk with his head held high and his shoulders pushed back, puffing out his chest. His step would be wide and his heel always striked the ground with strength and groundedness.

That was a completely different story now, as Carmine took small, anxious steps down the stairs of the basement, his shoulders curved forward. His head was held low. If you hadn't seen anything but his silhouette it would be hard to recognize him from anyone else.

Carmine lifts his heaviest one-handed weight up to his chest, and briskly walked to the backyard, taking rope along the way. Carmine's entire body was shaking. The pit in his stomach only grew more as he thought about the people in the house. He'd hurt every single one of them. Him feeling bad about himself wasn't going to fix it. Nothing was going to fix it. Somehow he ends up hurting the people around him without even thinking. Beth. Sunset. Mahogany. Indigo. Tin. Ultra. Lav. He could have named more if he hadn't kept forgetting everyone's names.

He faces the deep end of the pool. The warm wind was contrasting with the starry night, and his face reflected the small ripples in the water. It was genuinely pretty, if not bittersweet.

Carmine stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks for things he'd need to empty out. He finds Tin's note, crumpled up. Carm was never able to read it. He couldn't. Ultra and candy were the only two who ever knew about his dyslexia and yet, now, he couldn't talk to either. Both of them hated him so much. Both of them would be better off if he hadn't ever spoken, or breathed. Their lives would have been so much better. Carmine felt like the weight he was tying to his ankle; something that dragged everyone else down with him.

Carmine finds a pen and flips the paper over. His hand shook over it. He wanted to write so much, but he couldn't. No words could describe what he was feeling.

He simply writes "sorry" on the back, and rests it on the side of the pool. He learned to write that word because of all the times he had to type it or write it on a board. Too many times.

The weight had been tied to his ankle.

The anger and guilt rose inside of him once more. All of them were telling him to jump in.

And so he did.

Relief

As soon as his sinuses filled with water he felt nothing but relief. This was finally it. The weight drags him deeper and deeper into the water. His lungs started to fail him. He takes a large breath of water to finish the job.

His mind starts to flicker on and off. He was so close. In a few seconds it would all be over. The water consumed him. He finally got what he had always wanted; revenge. What they all wanted. He deserved it.

His thoughts were hard to form. But he was calm. Tranquil, even.

...

I need this.

I want this.

I need th

I need

I ne

I

The rope comes loose.

His body floats to the surface.

Enough oxygen goes into his circulation.

He gains consciousness.

Carmine grabs onto the side of the pool and throws up water. He grips his head. No. No. No. this can't be happening. What happened?

A mix of pure rage and terror is all he can think, hear, or see.

"FUCK.."

Without warning he starts to scream, which forms into a cry. He lays lifeless in the pool, crying. Ripping his hair out. Digging into his skin. Anything. The feeling was awful.

He just wanted it all to stop.