Indigo Shadow - Hemlock

Chapter 20

Hemlock sat on his couch, in the middle of their living room, and stared out into the darkness. A cigarette hung limp from his lips, but he didn't seem to notice that around his feet he had accumulated a pile of cigarette stubs. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, the street lights from outside creating elongated shadows of orange and dark navy against his walls and wooden floor. It was close to dawn, he could feel it in his stomach. Soon, the night would end to give way for sunlight... and the end of his life. He had gotten home from his encounter with Nox last night, around 4 a.m. and he hadn't moved an inch. He decided that he didn't care about sleep anymore, it was useless. He wasn't motivated to go into work, despite his cell phone blowing up every hour from Ange, Mr. Guernsey, and even Nox. He wasn't hungry, or thirsty, or... anything. He did, however, have one feeling. And it brought both butterflies to his stomach and palpitations in his heartbeat. Hemlock was just trying to get the nerve to act on this feeling. Death.

After his talk with Nox, he felt that the only way he could really free himself from this demon from within, was to die. Had it always been that simple? But... suicide? Hemlock felt a sharp pain in his throat as he swallowed. How had he gotten this low? No, he reminded himself. This was necessary. I will not allow anyone to endanger themselves for my sake. Especially Nox... His heart longed to see Nox's face one last time, even before his own brother's. Maybe it was because he and Nox shared a bond, something deeper than anything he had felt with anyone... ever. This was his soul, they were talking about, and Hemlock wanted to share it with Nox more than anything. He blinked back tears, surprising himself at this swell of emotion towards someone he had only known for a few weeks. To save Nox from potential harm, as well as his own family and best friend, he would take himself out of the picture, and hopefully... if it all went to plan, Loretta would follow him in death and be able to move on in the afterlife, if there even was such a thing.

The friendship he had with Jacoby was deteriorating, he had severely hurt his own brother Ange, and above all, he saw no future for himself... it was utter darkness. But something, out of touch, glimmered in that darkness, like a knife- reminding Hemlock of a weapon from movies about ancient warriors or a graphic novel. He knew that killing himself was not the best answer, but it was the only one he could think of that was quick, easy, and painless... well, maybe not painless, but at least it would save an extra step or two. Nox seemed to already have a plan in place and wanted Hemlock to wait for the perfect moment. But Hemlock was anxious, and had grown more impatient every moment since Nox had told him about how death will free him. He could feel the insecurity of the impending clock of time tick every last bit of his sanity away... he couldn't wait any longer.

Glancing towards the dark hallways towards the bathroom, he felt his stomach drop in anticipation. He had meticulously placed all his instruments. Taking in a deep breath, he set down the pen that had been in his hand for hours, placing it carefully on top of his written letter.

Dear Angrim, my brother... Jacoby, my best friend... Please, don't be mad, and please understand that I needed to do this in order to...

He looked away before he could change his mind and strode towards the bathroom, flicking the light switch on. Jacoby wasn't home, he was visiting his parents in Cheyenne for the weekend, and so the apartment was empty. He thought about calling him, begging for forgiveness, anything to repair their friendship... but what good would that do? Hemlock had screwed up, and it seemed hopeless. The only way to make peace was to make a sacrifice, and set things right. The buzz from the fluorescent bulb above the sink made his throat swell in anxiety. Piled in the sink was an assortment of items; a bottle of expired sleeping pills, his father's razor blades, a handgun, and a bottle of his mother's favorite brand of amaretto to wash it all down. He lit another cigarette and eyed the tools before him. Eenie, meenie...