To my dear boy

Chapter 5

The alarm rang at 9am, echoing throughout Andy's room as it did every morning. It rang. And it rang. Again and again, until it eventually stopped on its own. Then it was quiet. Not a single sound coming from outside of the room, not even the murmur of life from the streets reaching beyond the walls of the apartment building. It was unusually chilly, even for February. Or maybe it was just his room where the air felt so cold. Everything was still endorsed in darkness, only a beam of light peeking through the curtain, and still it was enough to disrupt the somber atmosphere. Oh, and how infuriating that small ray of sunshine is, the reminder that the darkness in your room hasn't truly swallowed the world whole, and no matter how much you try to cover up the light by closing the shutters and pretending it isn't there, the sun still shines outside your window.

Andy couldn't move. His arm refused to move, his eyes wouldn't open more than halfway through, even with all of his willpower. It felt as if his body had been dragged for miles and dropped off of a cliff, as if every ounce of blood from his veins had been sucked out, and now he was simply a mutilated, empty shell of the human he'd once been. Yes, he was the embodiment of the word 'empty'. It was all so numb, his mind so blank and thoughtless, nothing filling the horrifying silence that had taken over. He wanted it to hurt. He needed his body to hurt, to make him howl in pain with every breath he took. But nothing did. He couldn't feel a single thing, so much so that it was almost making him wonder if he was still alive.

After hours of laying in bed like a lifeless corpse, he eventually managed to get up from his bed. He threw on the first pair of jeans and hoodie he could find and he dragged himself to school. Even the five-minute walk to school was now an agonizing task, when he was certain every step he took would be the last one before his body would finally collapse. Yet, it didn't, and soon enough he managed to get to his seat. He said hi to his peers, and sat down as if everything was normal. He wasn't as lively as usual, but he seemed to be completely fine regardless. He chatted with the other guys all day, even Matt, cracking a joke from time to time or laughing along with the group. And as soon he got back home, he went back to bed, only getting up again the next morning.

The next day, it was the same as the one before. And the next. And the next. They soon started to blend together. It was irrelevant whether he'd failed that math test a day or a week ago, whether he'd eaten pizza earlier that day or on Sunday - not that he was eating much anyway; he'd gotten comfortable with the feeling of an empty stomach. It didn't matter that much anymore; every day was the same. Sure, there'd be a different topic of conversation with his friends, he'd wear a different hoodie than the day before, but ultimately it was the same endless cycle that would never end, to the point where he'd even started to ask himself why he bothered to wake up every morning. Why anybody did, as a matter of fact. He was aware there was a time when he didn't despise every second that he was forced to spend on this earth, but he couldn't remember how. If anything, he was certain that he had been truly blind before; after all, his life had always been just as useless as it was now, he just hadn't realized it. He'd been too busy living in his own self-centered bubble to take a look around. And the more he thought about it, the more he became certain of one thing: the world would keep spinning without him. Sure, maybe his friends and family would be upset for a while, but they'd get on with their lives sooner or later, and he'd be forgotten, just another gravestone.

It was quiet. Only the murmur coming from the engines of the cars passing by. Even though it was the middle of April, the air was so cold you could have sworn it was winter. Or maybe it was just Andy's blood that had gone cold, as he stood on the edge of his apartment building's roof. He was staring down at the road before him, dimly lit by the streetlights. As he watched the cars driving along the golden boulevard, the pit in his stomach felt bigger than the distance between him and the ground. All he had to do was take one step. One small step and it would all be over. But his body was frozen in place. Maybe he should have left a note. But really, what was there to say? Going up there was an impulse decision anyway. By now, his courage had left him, and he felt like a fool and a coward for wanting to back out. It was probably the only reason why he hadn't returned to safety yet. Despite how ashamed he felt, he finally sighed and took a step back. He sneaked back into his room, cursing himself for not having the guts to stick to his decision.