Desolate Love

Chapter 3: Attempt

Vaughn POV

I couldn't do it anymore.

The bullying just wouldn't stop. It had gone on for a year and a half - I was now in my senior year. It quickly got worse and worse. I could no longer hide the neverending scars that ran up my arm. I was sure that my mother at the very least had seen, yet she hadn't commented. Maybe she just thought it was from a cat...

It had to be. She still cared, right?

Either way, I wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. Who cared and who didn't? Who loved me and who didn't? Who would care if I died? I wouldn't have to know about anything anymore - a dead man never does.

Standing here watching the gas fire burn yellow, knowing carbon monoxide was flooding my body. I didn't have the guts to do any of the gruesome, painful ways. I wanted something peaceful for once and this was the perfect way. Everyone would just think I was sleeping until it was too late - if they ever realised. Maybe my body would just lay on this floor and decay with nobody to care. I didn't give it too much thought though as it wouldn't matter when this was all over - when I would finally be free.

A few hours had passed before I felt my body grow tired. I wasn't sure how much longer it was until I finally fell asleep but I didn't care, after all, I was finally going to be happy.

***

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I knew that sound.

I had failed.

I was still a prisoner in my failing body. How could I think I was going to escape that easily? Of course, it would be unsuccessful. Nothing I did ever succeeded.

"Van- Vanny? Vanny, can you hear me?"

Toby? Or was it Al? Did they actually care?

I tried to force my eyes open a few times before succeeding, but when I did my heart dropped. It was my father. Of course, it wasn't them. They didn't care about me anymore.

"Vanny! You have no idea how scared I was! How did you not notice the yellow flame? It nearly killed you!"

I wish it did.

I tried to answer my father, apologise or anything but I couldn't. On second thought, of course I couldn't. I had a breathing tube pumping pure oxygen into my system. I must've been quite close to death.

I was so close.

Yet still failed...

I looked up at my father, his face stained with tears. I had worried him. How could I have done that to him? And purposefully? I was an awful person.

Laying and staring at my father's crying face while a tube was down my throat saving my life, I gave myself a reason to live. I never wanted to be a burden on my father again. I didn't want to see him that upset ever, especially over me.

I was going to survive, if not for myself than for him.