The Confessions of Andora and Kai

Kai

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER TALKS ABOUT SUICIDE. DO NOT PRECEED IF TRIGGERED BY THE TOPIC.
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Confession#7: Death didn't seem like such a horrible thing.

I understand that is a very reckless thing to say out loud which was why I have never introduced the idea to anyone including Andora. Death was the unknown which was scary, and most thought that wanting to die was suicide. And suicide was supposed to be a terrifying and awful idea. But let's face it, why? I mean no one knew what happened after death, which is why it was posed as one of the most puzzling questions to humanity's existence. Why was it such a bad thing.

Death could be the best thing to happen to civilization. It could be the worst thing. It could be everything. It could be the longest eternity of sleep to occur. But no one knew, no one would know until they experienced it themselves.

I got the idea stuck in my head for quite awhile. It wasn't a detrimental feeling. I didn't think my life wasn't worth anything, but then at the same time I did. I often pondered why people were so motivated to continue going on with their lives even if they despised it. Like my father for example, he drank away his despair and took it out on me. He continued to live so he could drink. He hated living, he still did it. Probably fear instilled him to keep going.

So whenever I got into this sticky I hole I chose to do what my father learned to do best. Drink as a distraction.

I took one of my father's most least cherished bottles of whiskey and drove myself to Tom Palmer's house, one of the assholes Andora did not like, but since she threw our friendship into the dumpster I figured I'd surround myself with everything she hated.

It had been four days since Andora stormed out the house slamming the door loud enough for my father to stir awake and give me a pretty brutal ass tussle. To be honest, it wasn't actually all that bad, I was so distracted with the purple bruise on my cheek that couldn't actually think about the betrayal I had to endure.

Her unpredictability was the worst thing about her. I think she liked to believe she was a good person some days, pat herself on the back for trying, but then she always reverted back to her impetuous nature. Her switches in morality were rediculous. Some days the world was a helpless shit hole. On Saturdays there was always a good in the bleakness of the world.

After I told Andora to leave, and she willingly did so, we didn't talk. I didn't expect a message, as she was obviously enriched in her false string of self righteousness, that I wasn't going to try to talk to a dead mule. When I saw her in school she seemed to strut around like she was Mother Theresa, arm and arm with Aaron as if they were equaltorial soul sisters.

I would of liked to think I was ignoring her, but for the most part it felt like she was ignoring me. And anytime we crossed paths she didn't even want to pass a glance my way, looking in almost every possible direction with exception of mine. At first I was pretty bothered, but after a bit of contemplation I realized the effort she put into assuring herself she wouldn't look at me meant she thoroughly indeed was thinking about me. And that was enough to ease my mind at night.

"Yo you remember that kid Rodney?" Tom Palmer yelled over his counter as if his mansion of home could not pick up the echo of his voice. Tom enjoyed having people in his prescence so he always had a constant flow of guys in the house and average of five guys always on the couch lighting a bong as they watched some random low rated tv show.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah, Rodney Pentland, he was in our sixth grade math class with Mrs. Lennox."

"No."

"Really?" He arched a eyebrow as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Short dude, he wore like fifty million sillybands on both his arms. We always joked that he skipped two grades."

I didn't remember, but for my own sake I pretended to, "Oh yeah, he was a stick."

"No," He shook his head. "He was chubby."

"But he wore crocs."

"Hell yeah he did."

"Whatever happened to him?"

"I don't know, I thought he had to go to the hospital because the sillybands were cutting off his blood circulation."

I offered a chuckle and took a sip out of the glass, "So why did you bring him up?"

"I don't know I was just thinking, what the fuck that kid would look like now," He sat down in the recliner and put the legs up. "He looked like a inbred you know? And I was just wondering if he ever grew into his face."

"Grew into his face," Ben laughed the words out as he lazily twiddled with the drawstrings of his hoodie. "What the fuck does that mean."

"I don't know. His forehead was really big and then the proportion of his eyes fucked up the rest of his face."

"Wait why are you like thinking in detail about this dude's face?"

"Yeah what did you just stare at him all the time," Henry chimed in with laugh.

"It was very noticable guys, wasn't it Kai."

"I didn't pay attention to that clown."

"See you're a fucking weirdo," Ben wheezed as he jerked his back into his thighs from spasms of laughter.

"You're a fucking moron," Tom retorted. "Aren't you the one who tried to smoke honey water with a bong?"

"Tom you can't say shit until you've actually tried it. Shit can really change a person."

"I bet it does Ben, your brain cells working power is probably being increased by five minutes."

"And his dick time deduced to four seconds,"   Ben punched Henry in his arm.

It was like conversations like these that furthered my frustrations with almost everything. Was anything of real value? Were there actual conversations of real value that could actually move someone? Move me? No. I couldn't remember anything I held seriously with exception Andora's words.

Because we're going down a rabbit hole. And it's entirely up to if you want to speed up the process.