Janoskians, 5sos and 1D imagines

Suicide

Ashton: This was it... Your final moments of being alive and they were spent looking in the mirror, trying to find the girl that once inhabited your lifeless body. You were dead even before the idea of ending your life came into your head, and this seemed like the best idea now. It seemed like the only idea. Ashton would be home soon. You needed to make sure that it happened before he could catch you. Dumping out half the contents of the bottle into your hand, you looked at the small white circles that had the strength, when taken, to end everything. You didn't want to waste any time, you tilted your head back, bringing your hand to your lips and dumping them in. It felt like those candy rockets you used to have as a child, minus the exploding flavour. Your body was numb as you took a big swallow of water to wash them down, and despite the quietness, you were so absorbed in the moment, you had failed to hear Ashton walk into the bedroom.
Calum: You felt like you were drowning. Slipping down into the dark abyss of your depression and everyone else was just watching, staring, talking... The darkness was taking over your mind, and it was nearly impossible to feel anything else but intense sadness. Nothing in this world could stop you now, at least that's what you had convinced yourself to believe. Unaware that your boyfriend was on his way home, you took out the sharp, new razor blade. The dim light in the bathroom bounced off of the shiny corner, making you wonder how something as innocent as a pencil sharpener could take away so much from a person, including their life. "You don't have to do this..." A small voice whispered in your head, but there was one overpowering it. "Do it you stupid bitch, before your boyfriend has to save you again." You were expressionless as you placed the sharp corner against your skin, getting ready to make the first vertical cut.
Luke: You didn't know the girl in the mirror anymore. The ghost of what you once were was no longer present, and the fight to get her back had been given up. Your hair was thin and matted and your eyes were dull. Your bones were sticking out in an unhealthy manner and your head was full of negative and degrading thoughts. How you were still alive was a question you asked everyday, but that was about to change. You had nothing else on but your boyfriend's sweater and a pair of underwear. You wanted whoever found you to see the physical pain that had caused this. Call it selfish, but you knew your destiny was with the rope and stool. As you looped the thick string around your neck, your vision was blurred with tears that you thought were no more. Second thoughts were your worst enemy, so you were going to stop them before they even happened. Before your brain could even process the event, the stool was kicked out from under you and suddenly, there was no pain.
Michael: How could he love me? The haunting question that echoed in your head on a daily basis. Death was inevitable, and the only thing you had control over at this point. Soon, your demons would be gone, and their forceful commands would be fulfilled. The bright crimson liquid dripped onto your thigh as you held the small killers in your sweaty palm. If Michael walked in right now, you were certain he would just turn and walk right out. 'He doesn't love you. He lied to you. No one could ever love you' they whispered, having you convinced. The pain was numbing. Nothing hurt, not the deep gashes on your arm, not the voices in your head. You were in control and this was about to end. The soft lyrics of 9 Crimes by Damien Price sang through the otherwise deadly silent room. The little white pills slowly went down your throat one at a time. All you wanted was the hurt to be gone, but someone had other plans for you.