Suicide Room (Fanfic)

Chapter 1

All the black lights dancing around the masses of bodies.

The masses of bodies dancing in the black light.

They fused together to form a rhythm of high, confusion, and escape.

No words are spoken here. Yet, there are more emotions to load a cruise ship only for it to sink like the Titanic. Everyone has an unspoken tale on how they ended up in a place like this. A tale that would go untold, for nobody spoke. Their memories of their past lives have been lapsed. Once you enter this melancholy room you are not destined to leave.

Here your cries are heard but overlooked. Here happiness is fictitious. Here reality doesn't exist. Here we don't exist.

Here is the Suicide Room.

The bar stool beneath me was surprisingly comfortable compared to my realistic self who had fallen asleep at the computer. Flickers and shadows of morphing dances reflected off of the marble counter along with the music blaring, yet no voices.

A boy across the room from me looks around this inscrutable place. His dazed expression practically screamed "confusion". He must be knew, obviously. Poor guy.

Trying to recall why I was here was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Once you enter here there really is no remembrance of your current life. But truly all I wanted to know was what is so bad to have banished me to this room. Sometimes I don't understand how bad it has to be to end up here. "Why am I here" we all think. Yet nobody tries to find out how. All you want to do is just ask somebody but you can't bring yourself to speak. Why can't we speak?

Whap! A large black book was slammed in front of me. The man who had dropped it raised his eyebrows up at me. He had a large black mustache that he had jelled to make it look curly like in one of those old t.v. shows. This man was very comical looking but his demeanor didn't show amusement. I couldn't exactly point out his expression but it was more than the lifeless simper from everyone else.

The leather book atop the marble counter seemed to be fairly new. I looked around to see if anybody was watching me. But once again to my dismay, everyone was lifeless. The man with the mustache had disappeared so now it was just me and the book.

I hesitantly opened it to see the name stained in black ink. Dominik.

••••

"Dominik are you ready to go? The opera starts in half an hour! Are you still playing video games?" I heard my mom sternly call from in her room.
"Sure." I spoke in a monotone voice.
No response. I didn't exactly expect one.
I heard a lock unlatch from my dad's office. His footsteps coming towards me.
"Dominik." An almost disappointed way of saying my name. "We have to leave in five minutes and you are playing mindless video games in your boxers. Get up and go get dressed or I'll smash the bloody thing." He gestured to my playstation.
"Okay." My never ending monotone like voice carried though our huge house.
My light footsteps brought me to my white, empty room. I grabbed the nearest pair of warn out jeans and slid them on. Throwing my shirt into my hamper I slid on a plain black shirt with one blue stripe across the chest.
"Dominik go wash your face. We don't need anybody thinking we don't care for you. What we need is to make good impressions on the administer." My mom handed me a bottle of face soap and crossed her arms.
"Okay." I swiftly brushed past her and into the porcelain accented bathroom.
The water was cold as it rushed between my fingers. Turning the knob to warm it up I gave a somber look to my reflection.
When people look at me they see this boy who all his life has had everything given to him. But that's not what I see.
All I see is tired eyes.
Tired hunch.
Tired mouth.
Tired.
I'm so tired. But I don't feel like sleeping.
Once I ran the hot water and cleaned my face I still saw me. Tired.
"Dominik! Hurry up now, boy!" My father's husky voice hollered for me.
"Okay." I watched my footsteps as I glided down the carpeted stairs.
"Your mother is in the third car. Go." He gestured towards the door.
I looked towards the door and back to him, "Okay."
"Smile once, will ya?" An odd look smoldered his face.
I curved my lips up to attempt the worlds most fake smile. He, of course, was oblivious.
"Excellent, now go. I'll be there in a moment."
"Alright." Monotone comes from me in more than just one word.
The third car was a subtle but expensive black steel. My parents were too infused in work to drive. They hired a driver.
I'm not entirely sure what his name is. They won't let me talk to him because he's a commoner. Yet, everyone at my school is a commoner. To me, at least.
Once I was in the glamorous car my mother glanced at me and then returned her attention to the phone call she was having.
I tuned her out and stared at my hands. They were quite small and unmarked compared to an everyday male's hand. Most people would say because I don't do anything. Little does anybody know know I do everything with my head. To be honest, my body is only a car my brain has rented out. Why damage the car doing silly things.
I had just came to realize that my father had joined my mom and I in the car. He as well, was on the phone. Yet with whomever he was talking to he was not happy with them. He's usually never happy with anybody.
"Woman! Can you please continue your phone call some other time? This is important and I cannot concentrate when you are blabbing to one of your clients." He covered the ear of the phone so the person wasn't able to hear him.
My mom sighed, "Louis, I'm going to have to call you back." Then she hung up the phone.