So, that's the Wolf family all interviewed now. But the extent of a suicide doesn't stop there, I'm afraid. Clawd had lots of people who loved and cared about him at Monster High, and the most prominent example of that was his casketball team. I asked them if they wouldn't mind doing these interviews, and Heath offered to do the first one. I'd expect nothing less, Heath has been eager, if a little attention-seeking, for as long as I've known him. But apart from that, he was very different during this interview.
Neighthan: Good morning.
Heath: Hi, Neighthan.
He sits down, not looking overly sad but more dejected and deflated.
Neighthan: How are you?
Heath: I dunno, man. It's a nice day, met up with Abbey last night to study, yet something still feels wrong.
Neighthan: Please explain.
Heath: Sure, sure. You see, normally I feel really energised at the start of the day, and that everything's gonna be alright because I go to Monster High and am studying with my friends. It's been like that since I was a little boy. I haven't felt like this since...well...
He looks in all directions, his gaze ricocheting more than a pinball machine. Every direction, that is, except into my face.
Neighthan: Since when?
Heath: Man, since-since a long time.
Neighthan: How's school life going for you?
I knew immediately after asking that it was a touchy subject. Grades had never been his strong point, but now that seemed to hit home even more.
Heath: Why do you have to ask that?
Neighthan: I want to know because I'm your friend. Not even your therapist, or a student trying to collate stuff for a project, but your friend.
Heath: Yeah, cool.
He says that without even making eye contact. His hands are in motion all the time, fiddling with bits of my desk, the chair, peeling stickers off.
Neighthan: Do you want a stress ball?
Heath: Um, I guess.
He holds the stress ball and is transfixed by it, constantly moving it between his hands and doing everything in his power to avoid conversation.
Neighthan: Do you like it?
Heath: Suppose so. Not sure, though. Not sure if I like much anymore.
Neighthan: And why would that be?
Heath: Nothing's fun anymore. Was it ever really meant to be?
Neighthan: You sound very apathetic today.
Heath looks at me for the first time, but regards me as if I'm like a small boy. Stupid, annoying, and not something he needs in his life.
Heath: Took you that long to realise, huh?
Neighthan: Hey, I'm trying to help.
Heath: And I'm trying to tell you you're wasting your time. What more do you wanna know? Clawd's dead. And life feels meaningless without him. There's your answer.
The silence that followed for at least fifteen more minutes was louder than a jet reaching the speed of sound.
Heath: Casketball practice is pointless without him. Trying to hang out feels like a guilt trip. Everything feels empty.
Neighthan: That must feel horrible.
Heath: Yeah, that's one way of putting it.
Neighthan: Is there anything you still enjoy doing?
YOU ARE READING
We Love You, Clawd
FanficClawd Wolf has killed himself. Now, in the aftermath, Neighthan Rot attempts to navigate his way through the situation and offer help to those affected, developing his skills as an aspiring psychologist in the process.
