What's Killing Marilyn Monroe(JamesDean/MarilynMonroe FanFic)

Chapter Six

To kill herself would be an awfully big discussion and she knew she had to be sneaky about it. Marilyn's eyes were glued to the little orange pill bottle in her hands. She wanted to die, but not here - not in the house she despised, where she lived with the man that had shown his true colors and pulled off the mask that made him look like a saint. No. If she died in that house, she knew her soul would linger there and she would be as trapped as she was when she was alive. Her death had to be as gracious as she was. She had to be surrounded by peace that would clear her mind; a place where she could officially say goodbye to the world as she admired it one last time.

Looking up from the bottle of little blue pills, the actress stood from the bed she was sitting on. Marilyn dressed herself in her best dress - a long black long sleeved gown and made her way to the bedroom door. From the soundlessness on the other side, she knew Arthur was no longer on the other side, pleading for her to forgive him for the nasty things he'd written in his journal. Slowly, the actress grasped the doorknob and, ever so slightly, began to turn it. Her heart was racing as she tried to be as silent as she possibly could. Marilyn pulled the door open and stuck her head out to see if Arthur was anywhere close. When she'd not seen nor heard anything, she tiptoed out of the room; rushing down stairs and to the front door. Arthur was nowhere in sight, and when she noticed the car was gone, it was easy to assume he'd taken off for the night. Probably to drink, Marilyn knew this. For the first time since she'd married Arthur she was glad that he was off drinking somewhere. Knowing that he wouldn't be out looking for her only made it much easier for Marilyn to end her tragic life. But she couldn't help but wonder where her life went wrong. She couldn't pinpoint just when she began to feel lifeless and aged; ugly and useless. Of course, everyone around the world would disagree that she was anything less than a goddess of timeless beauty, but reality was cruel and Marilyn's own thoughts overshadowed everyone else's.

In her black pumps, she walked into the city, looking for a place to die. It was almost odd how ready she was to end her life. It was like shopping for a new purse; something she didn't think much of. And each passing spot never seemed to fancy her. She couldn't find any place beautiful enough or peaceful enough. Not until she'd spotted a nearby hotel that was as golden as the sun and nearly reached the sky, it was so tall. This had to be it, she thought, this has to be the place. All she had to do was make her way to the top and oh so gracefully jump off to her own demise. It seemed simple and sweet; right to the point. As she made her way towards the hotel, a bellhop opened the door for her, hardly paying attention that she was the Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn thanked him and made her way inside. Her eyes wandered over the beauty of the hotel: marble white flooring with golden designs, a golden chandelier hanging in the center of the lobby, and there were white sofas and chairs for anyone waiting to check in or out. It was beautiful. She simply walked through the lobby slowly taking in how beautiful it was. Not many people were there and those who were didn't pay much attention to Marilyn. She made her way over to an elevator and waited for it to open before entering it all alone. As the doors closed she hit the button to the top floor. Patiently, she waited for her stop. Her blue eyes stared at her reflection in the golden elevator doors. It began to hit her that no one knew she was gone: not Arthur, not Gladys, no one. Regardless of her wanting it that way, she thought about how no one really seemed to care... but now... now she was going to make them all miss her; make them all realize that they should've paid more attention. Now, that wasn't her intention for wanting to end her life, she would never want to bring anyone any sorrow or regret, but she was simply realizing that that's how it was going to be and it couldn't be changed.

The elevator doors opened and Marilyn stepped out into the corridor. Immediately, she noticed the door at the end with a sign that read "Rooftop. Please Do Not Enter" and headed towards it. She opened the door, now being introduced to a stairwell, and walked up the steps. Then, coming to and going through a rusty metal door, she stepped out onto the rooftop of the hotel. There was a cool breeze that hit her face; her blonde hair brushing back. It felt peaceful and safe. Somehow the idea of dying was settling and she stepped out towards the edge of the roof letting out a long, slow breath. She looked over the edge and down at the street and all of the pedestrians and cars going by. From way up there, they all looked like small ants. She pulled away from the edge and opened up her black little purse, pulling out her orange bottle of pills. "Some for the road." She told herself as she opened it and poured four pills in her hand. She slapped them to the back of her throats and swallowed them dry. Then, she put them back in her purse and closed it, placing it under her arm. She lifted herself up onto the edge and propped herself onto the cliff. She swayed a bit from her heels but steadied herself holding her arms out to her side for balance. Marilyn looked down once again. Now everything below her seemed even smaller and her chest began to pound, slight fear began to run through her. "No," she told herself and looked up straight ahead, "I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid. I'm not ..." Then she took another look down. This time fear had really gotten her and she could feel her heart beating harder. But regardless of fear, her mind knew it was the only way to escape this torturous life of pain and agony. She didn't want to be Marilyn Monroe anymore. She just wanted to be Marilyn, and in this life she knew it would never happen. She had to do it; she had to jump. "Goodbye." She whispered. She started to loosen the muscles in her legs so she could just fall forward and drop off of the roof. She could feel herself slightly moving forward.