Quietus

 With shaky hands and tears running down his face, Cooper wrote the letter. As he finished the final word a deep calmness came over him. The tears ceased and his hands held steady. Out of the draw he took the sleeping pills – half a bottle. He knew that an overdose would be deadly within hours, relatively painless. Only a few pills would suffice, but he would take them all just to be sure. To be certain that he would never wake up back into the world which had rejected him. The society which hated him. The home that he despised.

He went to his bed and laid down on top of the covers, pills in hand. He took a last look out the window upon which rain lashed. The light of his lamp flickered on the window pane like it was dancing. Outside thunder clapped and storm clouds rolled. Wind howled. But Cooper heard none of this, only the sound of his own heart beating. Without another thought he swallowed the pills, rested his head on the pillow and listened. He listened up until his last heartbeat, and with it smiled. Lightning flashed as his life passed away.

It would be almost a day before Ian found his son’s body. It was not unusual for Ian not to see Cooper in the mornings – lately problems with his company had forced Ian to leave at increasingly early hours. That day he left at 6am, two hours before Cooper would have left for school. That day Ian was too busy to notice the multiple texts from his son’s school asking him to explain Cooper’s absence. When he arrived home late that night he gave only passing thought to the fact that none of the house lights were on. He simply assumed his son was out.

It was then that Ian checked his phone, to see if he had missed a text from his son. There was no such text, only the ones from school. Puzzled, and somewhat annoyed, he decided to phone Cooper. It went straight to voicemail. This worried Ian more than anything – Cooper always kept his phone on and answered his father’s calls. He tried again, but to no avail, his only reply being the robotic tones of the voicemail. Ian began to pace, both worried and annoyed, before he noticed his son’s car keys sitting on the workbench. His annoyance vanished, replaced wholly with concern. He knew that Cooper couldn’t be out without his car, he had no other means of getting anywhere. There was only one place in the house he would be, Ian realized.

At first Ian thought his son was sleeping. Cooper looked peaceful, lying there, not moving. The light from the desk lamp cast a soft glow upon the smiling face, gave the pale cheeks an artificial warmth. It was the silence that Ian noticed first. The room was deadly silent. It was as though even the wildlife outside the window had fallen quiet to pay respect to the dead. So quiet Ian could hear even the soft lub-dub of his own heart. But nothing else.

Then he noticed the stillness. Everything was perfectly still, there was no movement. Cooper’s chest remained unstirring. No shadows danced around the room reacting to change, their ominous presence unabated.

Ian froze. He had noticed, hidden by the shadows, lying open on the floor next to the bed, the empty bottle. Blood rushed from his face as realization dawned.

* * *

Josh checked his phone one last time before sitting down for first period English. Still no answer. As he scanned the classroom looking for his scruffy locks, deep down anxiety gnawed at him. The teacher had started teaching; Josh remained fixated on the door, the teacher’s dulcet tones drifting past without meaning. Five minutes passed. Then ten. It was past the time when Cooper would usually come rushing in, his shirt untucked, his tie loose, and out of breath, with a fresh excuse as to his lateness. Every minute the anxiety grew tighter. It had been three days since they had last spoken and this was enough to set Josh at unease. Ever since they had met they had spoken, if only by text, every day. Not to mention the fact that the pair rarely missed school and now Cooper had missed two consecutive days. Josh hadn’t even been able to go Cooper’s house, given his lack of transport, to check up on him. Never had he felt more isolated.