Her Suicide

Chapter 3

They looked awful.

They all did.

Family, bullies, teachers, staff, friends, best friend... Hell, even the principle and students that didn't know her did.

It all started on a Monday morning...

There was nothing unnatural about this day.

The sun was shining like it always did, the parking lot not quite full yet, the school was filled with students. Some chatting, some going to classes, some doing last minute homework, it was all natural, except maybe for Lana.

Her best friend hasn't shown up to school yet.

And for this to happen, meant that something was wrong, and the bad feeling in her stomach was confirming it. Thea never showed up late. Never.

She tried calling her, but it went immediately to her voicemail.

Lana listened to her best friend's voice through her phone, and it slightly reassured her. 'If something was wrong, she would have told me.' she thought, and assured herself that it was probably just a cold, blaming the bad feeling she had on the math exam she had today.

Meanwhile, in the Blake's household, something entirely different was happening.

Roger Blake had just woken up from a drunken sleep with a killer hangover. He was used to it by now, morning after morning, it didn't affect him much anymore. He got up from bed looking at his clock that informed him it was time to wake up his daughter from sleep. It was no secret he wasn't the ideal dad, hell, he should have been in jail by now, but waking Thea up was a tradition he wouldn't give up. And even after he became an alcoholic, he kept doing it, because it was in these moments that he felt like nothing changed, that they were still happy.

He entered the bathroom first, like he did every morning, and then proceeded to enter his daughter's room to wake her up.

But the sight that greeted him was not the sight he'd been anticipating at all.

Thea was laying on the bed motionless in a puddle of her own blood, her skin purple, her lips pale, her eyes closed.

He froze.

Then his heart sank.

He stood at the door emotionless, his face pale and blank not displaying any emotion, because he wasn't feeling anything. He was numb.

After standing there for a few minutes, the reality of the situation hit him, and he crouched down next to his daughter's bed, and held her arm. It was purple and... and... it was cold. Her hand was cold.

He paused for a minute.

'No,' he thought, 'this is a dream. It all is just a nightmare. It must be a nightmare.'

But as his other hand touched her cheek and then her lips, he knew it wasn't a nightmare. It was cold, harsh, but no, it wasn't a dream. It was reality. A hideous reality, that hit him like a bucket of ice cold water.

He called to Marissa, his wife. She was a nurse. She would know what to do.

Said wife was still sleeping in her room when she heard it. Her name. And it wasn't said with a tone of disgust, of disappointing. No. It was a bloody scream. A frightened scream. Coming from her husband. She immediately knew there was something wrong once she heard it. Her name coming from his mouth. He had not said her name in all the time she had known him. And in that moment, she knew, that whatever he made her go through, she would always care of this man, she would always help him.