About Stone Bees [a Marble Hornets Fan Book]

Suicide Note

Warning: obviously, this contains a depressed character and their mental problems, duh. (srynotsry, I'm a slut for stories like this)

Inspired by the song "Suicide Note" by Kyle Spratt.

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"Brian? You not hungry?", Jay asked with his mouth full. They sat all together in the kitchen and ate their meals. Well, all of them besides Brian. He had been staring at his, pretty empty, plate, playing nervously with the hem of his long sleeves and pushed the untouched plate away now, shaking his head no. "I feel kind of sick.. I'm going to my room, yeah?", he mumbled, barely audible for anyone to hear, and got up, shuffling to his room. The kitchen went quiet for a few minutes.

Brian has been looking sick for weeks, if not months now, growing paler and becoming way too thin because of meals he had been skipping.
He has been excluding himself those past weeks, disconnecting himself from the others, from the world outside his room, outside his head.

If you walked past his room you could faintly hear the music playing. When Tim walked in once to check on him, Brian was laying on his bed, "caught in his dream fantasy", as Tim described it.

All in all, Brian was getting out of hand.

"Guys.. I'm worried..", Sarah said quietly, poking her vegetables with her pork. Everybody else hummed in agreement, even Alex. "We.. We could have him visit a doc.", Tim suggested, although his mouth started to pull a grimace of distaste immediately. Seth shook his head. "He's too stubborn."
"But we have to do something.. Just look at how thin he is. That's not healthy!", Amy said with a loud and powerful voice, stating her concern. Alex shushed her, saying Brian might hear them. "He's listening to his music, anyways.", Tim responded to Alex, rolling his eyes and sighing afterwards.
"What if it's just a phase..?", Jay whispered, hope audible in his voice, shining in his eyes. Seth sighed. "Maybe.. Hopefully.."

Another couple of weeks passed.

Brian noticed that the others were watching out for him, especially when he stopped sleeping and stayed more in his room, barely leaving it. But he was happy this way. In his imagination was everything like he wanted it to be, there he had no problems but a normal life. He'd close his eyes and listen to the music, only hearing the tune of the song while the lyrics faded out, and the only thing left would be his dream world.

His dream world had one, big fault, however. Whenever he would be ripped out of it, as he describes his waking up moment, real life would crash down on him, breaking him with all its' weight of expectations, tasks and problems. Brian would always start to cry. In despair, he'd try to calm himself quietly but quickly down, needing to hold up his mask of everything being fine.
One day, it was some months ago, he started to bury his fingernails into his arm, leaving visible marks. It calmed him down.

So he continued to scratch his arms, started to slap himself as hard as possible later on, bit his fingers until they were like leather and whenever he was taking a bath, he'd dive his head under water until he was about to drown. He loved the following numbness and the feeling of being way above the sky, like he was flying, or thinking that he could die every second now and be finally free.

If Brian was completly honest with himself, though, he could say that he hated his life. Brian felt bad about saying this.. What reasons did he have to hate his life? He had everything he wanted while others had nothing, and here he was, crying over his oh-so-bad life? In his opinion, he wasn't even worth living. He should just end it.
Maybe cut himself to death? Drowning on his own blood? Hang himself?
He considered it.

One day, more than on the others.

He was kneeling on the floor of his bedroom, one of his fists clutched to his chest while he bit on the other one, trying to muffle his screams. Tears were running down his face, making his sight blurry and his face and neck sticky.
It was enogh now. He quit. Brian quit.
Tonight was the night he'd end it.
He couldn't bear it anymore.

It was enough.

So he got up, his legs wobbling, and walked through the door, entering the hallway and shuffling down the stairs, all as quiet as he could. He went to the bathroom downstairs. There he locked the door, let the water fill the bathtub and sat down in it, the running water soaking his yellow hoodie, jeans and boots.
He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to wear this when he was found dead.

He slid further down until his head was under water and he could see the surface, his feet stiking out the bathtub and hanging down the edges.
Brian closed his eyes and felt this strange pressure in his lungs, telling him that he needed to breathe. And when he couldn't hold it back anymore, he breathed water in.
It burned, and if he was honest it didn't feel as relaxing as he imagined it, but he wouldn't step back now.

While everything turned to nothingness, Brian hummed internally with the last bits of his consciousness: "To lead us all the way to the ark"

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Explanation: In this, Brian's dream fantasy is the ark.

*sigh* this is so shitty. Too bad.. When I started this it was so good and I really loved the idea.