Low

Chapter 27.5--We're All Eagles With Badass Scars

Logan

It was a really bad week. The worst week of my life. My friends had been trying to make me feel better by taking a weekend off to a lake house. Mason's parents were able to get us permission slips to go and my parents thought it would be good to get out of school for a bit. Jarrod was half-way across the world. So really, Mason and I just had to sneak Aaron out, which wasn't at all difficult.

I had been thinking about doing it for so long now that honestly at this point I was just afraid. Looking outside my bedroom window, I could see the canopy of flowers that started to open up because it's spring. The lake in the distance glistening under the hot sun. I can't even enjoy beauty anymore.

Mason had to make up a few exams he had missed while he was sick. Aaron was the one that drove he and I here. And Jarrod? Well he was already gone. Graduated last spring and is currently traveling around for his job.

I hadn't left my room all day long. I made up excuses to Aaron, telling him I was waiting for Mason. That we should wait for Mason before going out to do something. The first night here, I sat down on my bed. The tears uncontrollably streaming down my face as I tried to hide my sobs into a pillow. But Aaron heard me anyways. After all, his room was right next to mine.

Everything inside of me is exhausted. My body, mind, and soul. I didn't want to live anymore. Not like this. Not with all the pain and desperation. People keep telling me life is worth living. That we just have to make it over the worst in order to see the best. Fuck those people. They don't know what it's like. No one knows what it's like.

It's not the pain that drove me to thinking this way. It's the constant tired feeling I have sinking all the way to my bones. Apparently, there's a form of torture where you never let anyone sleep. They get tired and hysterical because sleeping is like food and water. Our body needs it to survive.

But this kind of tired? The one that makes me ache all over. My body barely managing to drag itself out of bed. My mind continuously telling me things that makes me feel worse. My soul desperately trying to repair something that's completely shattered. This kind of tired can't be helped with sleep. At least...not your average sleeping.

"Logan," Aaron starts hitting his hand against my door.

I stand up, dropping the pillow and letting my sobs out. I place my hand against my head, trying to think. But I can't. I just want everything to go away. Why can't it all just go away?

"Logan open this door," Aaron says desperately. "Open it now Logan."

"I'm sorry," I whisper under my breath. My hand is shaking, the revolver feeling so much heavier than it is.

I look down at it. I bought it off of some kid at my school who collects guns. Except, I added an extra touch by carving my initials into the wooden handle. My finger traces the letters L.O.W. Another cry escaping my lips because I can't. I can't keep being low. I just want to be gone. I don't care about happiness anymore. I need it to all go away. Happiness, pain, sorrow, anger.

I don't care anymore.

I finished writing my note months ago. It's torn and crumpled from the amount of times I've stuck it in my pocket or moved it around. It's not even that special. It simply has the names of my family and friends. Four words written out: I'm sorry. I tried.

"Logan!" Aaron shouts loudly. He starts hitting the door with his body. Trying to break it open.

I stare in front of the mirror, the reflection of myself unrecognizable. My eyes are red and puffy. I've lost weight even though everything about me feels heavier. My hair is a shaggy mess, body limp, and unmoving. I might as well be dead already because when I stare into my eyes I don't see anything. I see nothing.