24 Hours

Chapter Twenty - Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Walking up to my door was no longer the same, as my perspective of the world had altered on that bus ride. In my reflection, I relaized that people loved me. That had loved me all along, just like everyone is loved by the many passerby on the street, the smiles in the hall, the carefree words exchanged between him/her and his/her friends.

I took a deep breath and walked in.

My sense of determination has not left, however. I looked down at the ground and dragged my feet forward. The less I looked at, the easier it would have been to walk upstairs. Thus, I managed to do so. I plopped my backpack on the floor and looked around.

With another deep breath, I reached under my bed and pulled out a long bundle of rope. I walked over to my closet and began to tie it into a loop. It's for the best, I repeatedly told myself. It's for the best.

I hobbled over to my bathroom and dragged away a stool from under the cabinent. For the best. Destiny. I slowly placed it under the noose, then backed away and collapsed onto my bed. My hand drooped over the side, hitting my backpack, and once more I remembered.

The final letter.

Trembling, I unzipped the pocket of my backpack. It seemed as though everything I did was with delicacy and silence, as if I were to treasure each and every little thing I experienced, saw, or felt - vicariously or not. I suppose that made sense, for I'd be... dead... in a few hours anyway.

Dead.

It was no longer a neutral word for me. It was only four letters, but it felt like those four letters house the spirits of a million souls; their loves, their passions, their burdens, their regrets. And as I reached for the envelope, it struck me that I, too, would join those four letters soon.

Four hours, I sat on my head, twirling the blue envelope between my fingers like lace. It seemed like so much more than an envelope. It was my life, my heart. It was the least envelope I'd ever hold, the last envelope I'd ever open. Someone had handwritten this for me, sealed it themself. All for what? A message? A couple words they could've told me in person?

Tears streamed down my cheeks in infinite traces and paths and patterns. The cold air stung like a million knives, and before I knew it, it was time. Five minutes 'till midnight.

I opened the letter, afraid. Nervous. Guilty.

Juniper -

I love you.

It was signed not by Molly, Justin, Donna. It was written by the boy.

And as the clock on my nightstand strikes twelve, I find myself sitting here, in this very spot on my bed, looking at the letter. It's for the best, I remember. I shut my eyes and try with all my might to stop crying. I crumple the piece of paper the boy had written me and I grip it in my hand. I wanted to die with a piece of him with me... holding my hand.

I look at the noose, and the stool, and the closet. Determined. I begin to walk towards it, finally accepting my destiny and my fate.

But I hesitate.