The Ending Game

Part one of one.

You smile.

That's your best disguise. As your parents leave for work that day they quickly say their goodbyes, not knowing that it would be their last. They were in a rush; they didn't even say "I love you" but you didn't expect them to. Since nobody cares right? The door shuts and you know that it's time to get started. Only four and a half hours until your little brother gets home from school. You pace around the house looking at the portraits on the wall, the illusion of happiness. The bathroom is just up ahead, you already know what to grab. You look in the mirror with the pill bottle in hand, this is it. It's real this time and you know it. It's different from the last time, the cuts weren't enough. You were too scared. You're not scared anymore. You stop by your little brother's room on your way down the hall, his door is slightly cracked and you nudge it open with your foot. It's messier than ever and you surprise yourself by chuckling. You sit on his bed for a moment squeezing the teddy bear that was tossed carelessly on the floor. You hadn't noticed, but time has dwindled and you've spent nearly an hour clutching that same teddy bear with your eyes trained on the same slightly lighter patch of blue paint on the wall. There's a story behind it, you're sure of it, but you can't bring yourself to recall it. Without letting go of the teddy, you finally make it to your room down the hall. You climb on your bed and glance at the glass of water on your bed side table just waiting to aid you in your demise. As you twist the cap on the pill bottle you think, again, about why you're doing this. Through the looking glass you have quite an admirable life. Two parents who love each other and love you, though they are quite busy. You have a little brother who typically gets on your nerves, but has made you laugh more than anyone ever has and ever will. You have a best friend, who lights up your world like no other.

So why? Why are you ending it?

Nobody know what goes on inside of your head. The voices. They scream, they're screaming now. Louder than ever. They're saying to do, NOW. Now before you change my mind because the world would be better off without you. You used to be able to ignore the voices, tell them they were wrong but now you've given up on that. And now you actually believe them, agree with them. You decide then that the voices are right, and that you should do it now before you change your mind, again. The bottle is open and you pour every last tiny pill into your hand, and you know that by the end of this you'll fall asleep and it'll all be over. The voices will evaporate and so will the pain. You take the pills one at a time until your palm is empty, and so is the glass. You put in your headphones and put on your favorite song allowing yourself the final pleasure of hearing, just one more time. You told yourself you wouldn't but you begin to cry, profusely. You decide to write a note to your family, your best friend. Telling them your sorry, for leaving. Even though the voices are telling you they don't care. By the end of your goodbye your hands begin to shake, and you feel yourself getting groggy. Your heart beat quickens and you know this is it. This is really it, and you know there's no going back now. Thoughts of doubt creep into your head between the voices screaming. Maybe I don't want to do this, maybe I want to live. The voices scream louder and you want to scream back but you can't seem to find your voice. You slump forward and slide off your bed and onto the floor, as you lie on your back staring at the ceiling fan turning around, and around your eyes droop and you feel like a blanket of lead has been laid upon you. Your face is soaking wet with tears, but you don't even feel like your crying any more. The room is bursting with silence as your breaths get shallow and your eyes flutter closed. Never to be opened again. It's too late now. Your last breath rises from your lips and suddenly you cease to exist.

Hours pass and your mom unlocks the door and your little brother comes bounding into the house with a blind excitement. Your mom scrolls through some emails as she slowly walks to your room to ask if you've eaten lunch yet. "Hey, I was thinking maybe the diner on 15th street? Cheese fries, and a milk shake?" She asked as she stepped to the door and when she didn't answer she looked up from her phone and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Her eyes scanned the room and met with your cold uninhabited body and the empty bottle of pills knocked over on your bed side table. A scream louder than anything anyone had ever heard echoed through the house as she dropped to her knees beside your limp body. She lifted you in her arms and shook you. Screaming "Wake up, wake up! What did you do? MY BABY."

By this time your brother has turned the corner of the hall and is staring at his mommy holding his big sister. He isn't quite sure what's going on. It looks like sissy is sleeping. Why is sissy sleeping? "Mommy." He says quietly from outside your door. She turns to him with wild eyes, and tries to speak with her calmest voice. "Go to your bedroom, right now. Go." And she picks up her cell phone with shaking hands and quickly dials the local authorities. They answer on the third ring with the normal dialogue, asking what the emergency it. She can barely bring herself to say the words as she looks down at your pale face. "My d-daughter, she k-killed herself." Her lips trembled as she spoke every parent's nightmare.

Minutes later there were two police cars, and an ambulance out on your front lawn. The EMTs burst into the house with urgency, as if there was a life to save here. After ripping you from your mother's arms, and a quick check of your vitals they decide that you certainly are dead. Your mother sobs on your bedroom floor as they lift you onto a stretcher. Just then your father runs into your room. He rushed home after a frantic call from your mother. He's paralyzed as he steps into the room. His one and only baby girl is lying, dead, on a stretcher. Your mother collapses into his arms and sobs harder than she ever has before. "She killed herself. Our baby is gone." She cries squeezing your father as tight as she can. He grabs your cold hand before they wheel you out of the house. Every neighbor on the block is out and watching in horror as they bring you out. Old Mrs. Green who baby sat you when you were barely able to walk is crying silently, holding onto the fence for support.

Your little brother finally comes out of his room and tip toes to yours, he sees mommy and daddy crying on his big sisters bed. He spots his teddy bear lying at the foot of your bed, the one that you just couldn't let go of. He hugs it and climbs onto the bed too. "Where did sissy go?" His tiny voice askes and you mother loses control again. Your father scoops him up in his arms and hug him to his chest. They tell him eventually. He'll understand eventually.

The next morning dawns and your best friend wakes to get ready for school. The news is all over town now, but she doesn't know yet. Her parents come into her room with solemn faces. "What?" she asks; she knows there is something up. They bring her to the living room and sit her down on the couch. They tell her the news, and she doesn't believe them. She picks up her cell phone and dials your number. She's sent to voicemail, but she tries again. This goes on for a couple of minutes, and before she knew it she was hysterically sobbing into her mom's arms. She could feel the wind being knocked out of her. She didn't go to school that day. Or the rest of the month.

You've been gone for two years now, and your parents have divorced. Losing you has torn them apart. Your little brother doesn't smile much anymore. Your best friend? She's in therapy and requires a daily medication to be happy. When you took your life your pain ended, but a whole new wave of vicious pain began for everyone around you.

The voices told you that nobody cared. The voices were wrong.

But it's too late. The end has come and gone faster than the blink of an eye. Your end.

The end.