Levitate (An Andy Leo x Dave Escamilla story)

Levitate - XXI

My name is Andrew John Velasquez. I am sixteen years old, and tonight, I'm going to end my life. David doesn't love me and doesn't want me. As for my father, I'm dead to him. Disgusting. Not a man in any way, shape, or form. Everything is spiraling out of control and it won't stop.

It started when my father beat me again. I went to school the following day as if nothing was wrong. Said some kids from a rival school jumped me and left it at that when asked about it at school. David knew I was lying each time I told the story. Each time the words surpassed my lips, he knew I was full of shit and only became more angry with me. They put me back in Contemporary Music and Audio Production, Austin being the happiest one to see me. Of course, David hadn't known, so when I caught him with the same blonde he had kept as eye candy this whole year, he was less than friendly with my homecoming.

"You're a jealous fucking bitch." Were his exact words when I confronted him. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell to hear it. He text me after that and explained that he has to put up a front so other people don't suspect a thing.

I guess I understand it. I do the same thing when I'm feeling suicidal. Like right now, as I sit in English next to Benn, he doesn't suspect that I'm plotting my own death. He doesn't suspect a thing. He genuinely believes I'm working for once.

What a fool.

Anyways, as I was saying before, I understand why he puts up a front, but that doesn't mean I have to be a part of it. He begged for my forgiveness and I told him it was okay.

"Forgive and forget." Was the cliché response I had managed to come up with, although nothing was forgotten, and I only forgave so he wouldn't feel as though he was to blame for me taking my life.

I stopped hanging out with the group of boys once again, all of them texting me on occasion asking me if I wanted anything to eat, or if I was going to meet up with them at lunch or outside of school. My answer was always the same; nonexistent. Each text was ignored, each person was never looked at when I passed them in the hallway. I don't allow myself to have human contact anymore. In fact, I hate the idea of someone worrying about where I am, or how I'm getting home.

I like the solitude that comes with being alone.

I stopped going to group counseling. My mom drops me off and I walk a mile to the nearest bridge, a small overpass that looks over an eight lane freeway. Some days, I gain the courage to stand on the ledge and dangle a foot. Most days, I sit and watch the cars until an hour has passed, then walk the thirty minute long trek back to the group counseling building and wait to be picked up by my mom.

She has no clue.

No one does anymore. The boys occasionally stop me when I'm walking and ask if I'm okay. I nod and continue on my way, knowing it's only a matter of time before I finally take the leap of faith into the unknown. My mother can tell I'm getting bad again. She gives me my pills in the morning and I throw them out when she looks away, too tired to care about my personal health. It's kind of funny at the same time. Stop taking the pills and suddenly you realize how shitty everything truly is. They no longer cloud your judgment. It's just you.

Shit suddenly makes sense.

She never told me what they were, but God was I happy to finally see life for what it was; complete and utter shit.

David doesn't know I'm going to kill myself when I go home. He doesn't know about the gun I have under my pillow. Neither does my mom or dad. Neither Brandon knows, nor Hayden. Jacob is probably on the same page as me but doesn't mention it.

Ollie's secret hiding place will go unknown, and probably be the last thing on my mind as I pull the trigger. The clues to the grand mystery will die with me.