Long Term Suicide

Chapter One

Sam's POV      

  I never understood why people smoked when I was younger. I just thought it was gross and a stupid thing to do.

        That was until my dad left when I was nine, leaving behind a box of cigrette's with my name written on it in black sharpie. That was all he left behind him, along with his two children and wife. 

        I never touched the box, I was too afraid. I hid it from my brother and my mom. I was scared that I would get in trouble for having something that was a part of my dad with me and for having cigrette's in the house. 

        But when I was 13 everything changed. My mom got re-married to a horrid man with a horrid son. I couldn't stand either of them. I grew to hate both of them, I was disgusted by my mom and what I felt for my dad was something I could never but into words. It was so strong, stronger than hate but filled with more abandonment than I ever knew was possible. 

        One night I was so full of rage and felt so helpless that I went ahead and stole on of my older brother''s lighters. I took out one of the cigrettes but before I lit it I saw there were words written on every one in black sharpie. It said "I love you Samantha." Every single cigrette told me that my dad loved me. 

        I didn't believe the words in the cigrette box. 

        I only smoked one of them that night outside in the cold air. I saved the rest. I promised myself I would save them for desperate days. 

        I saved them for the days when I needed them the most. Like the day my brother ran away from home, only 16. I never saw him again. Or the day when I saw my step dad hit my mom but that wasn't the only time I saw him do it, many more hits would follow so I learned not to waste my dad's cigrette's on them. 

        I started to slowly understand why people smoked or did drugs or drank alcohol. It isn't just because it makes you feel good, that's part of it, but there are some of us who do these things because we know it slowly kills us. It helps us knowing we are doing something that can eventually make our heart stop. We do these things because it helps us get off this planet sooner than living a normal life, but we don't get normal lives. No. We get the fucked up ones. 

        We do these things because it will do the job that we are too scared to do. It kills us, very slowly but it kills us. It's like a long term suicide and that's what some of us need. 

        That's at least why I smoke. I don't smoke often but every once in awhile I will go outside, light one up and just relax, forgetting everything. 

        This was my routine for about 4 years. I had my ways to get the cigrettes, none that I need to share at the moment. 

        I had a hard time in my highschool and middle school, everyone was so mean and I thought life was just a cruel punishment I had to go through. It was hard to get up in the moring, to go to school, to talk to my family and sometimes it was hard to even breathe. I struggled a lot.

        And when I was 15 I tried to kill myself but I didn't die. No, my mom found me and called an ambuance. I was then sent to the hospital and then into rehab but neither of them helped. I took anit depressents but smoking had a bigger affect on me to feel peaceful and normal than the pills did. 

        I tried to kill myself three more times after that. Now I'm being watched constanly but no one seems to notice that I haven't gotten any better. 

        That's just the short story of my life so far, now I'm 17, alone and lost in the world with only a pack of cigrette's for comfort. 

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 Nathan's POV        

        My life has always been easy, no problems or very small ones that are easy to handle, I always got what I want. Life was good. I was the most popular kid at school, I had an amazing, hot girlfriend who would do anything for me as I would for her. My relationship was goo with my parents, I never got introuble. I was the perfect, only child to them with incredible good looks.

        I never struggled with bullying or depression or having a hard life. Everything came easy to me and everyone loved me. I was good at sports, a straight A student. 

        My life was basically perfect. 

        That was until my dad was in a car accident and died. The thing is, I'm the reason why he's gone, I was the one who called him to come pick me up from a friends at 2 in the moring because I felt "sick," when in reality I was just bored. He got hit from the side from a giant semi and killed him on impact. 

        I remember being at the scene with my mom around 3 in the morning, crying with her because I knew it was my fault. I lost my father forever, I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. 

        The thing that has been killing me the most over the past two years is that I could of prevented it, I could of just sucked it up and been a man at my friends house but no. I am responsibe for his death, along with the truck driver. 

        All of the guilt, the shame and the blame have been eating me up for the past two years. My mom doesn't bame me, no one blames me except myself. 

        Things just started to get worse and worse, my grades dropped, my friends left me, even my girlfriend did because I was "too sad all the time." 

        I learned how to be alone. 

        Then my mom decided it was time to move, to start over. It was right before my senior year of highschool. I would be starting over with a new grouple of people, ones who didn't have to know about my dad. 

        It would be a new beginning for me, and maybe just maybe, I wouldn't be so sad anymore.