the little boy who came from hell.

side c.

     shut up. shut up shut up shut up shut up.
please, please stop.
15 year old remington leith sat on the fire escape outside of his bedroom, in his family's apartment on the 22nd floor of a crumpling, old complex.
the boy was sitting in the rain, his head in his hands.
he whispered to himself- to the voice over & over again. he just wanted it to stop. he needed it to stop.
     he grasped at his dark hair& pulled until it fell into his hands in large chunks. he sobbed into the rain, on a quiet,foggy night at precisely 2:34 in the morning. he sobbed until his throat was sore & he was gasping for breath.
waste of space, waste of space, waste of space, waste of space; the voice in his head chanted at him.
     he stood up, his patchy hair dripping with water, his clothes soaked, & his boots filling with water.
he walked to the edge of the fire escape & looked down. a few cars raced by, lighting up the dead area for a minute & filling the echoing city with sounds other than his sobs. holding on to the slippery bar connected to the bottom of the fire escape on floor 23, he climbed onto the rail & leaned dangerously over the the road, that was only 22 floors down.
     he closed his eyes, letting the wind whip his face & push his frail body around. he imagined what it would be like to let go. to drop until everything went black. he wanted so badly to be free. with his eyes still closed, he let go with one hand & leaned even farther over the dark, wet pavement below.
     he imagined letting go of everything. the pain, the sorrow- everything. he knew that to be free, all he had to do was let go. all he had to do was slip a little & he could end his entire existence. he could stop burdening his family. he could stop being sad. everything would stop. everything.
     but right as he was about to let go, he imagined his funeral. he imagined his best friend/13 year old brother crying his eyes out, wondering why he did it. he could see his older brother with dead eyes, standing over his casket, thinking it was his fault for never being around. he could see the toll it took on his brothers- the people he loved more than anything in the entire world.
     he opened his eyes. he couldn't do it. he could never do that to his brothers. he climbed down & into his room, pulled his window shut & slid down the tiles of their bathroom showering, shaking & hyperventilating. he could never kill himself. he had to stay- for emerson & for sebastian.
he couldn't do it.
he couldn't.
     he's 17 now. that was two years ago& remington leith has never tried to commit suicide since then.
he promised himself he would never do it. & for a while, he actually believed he wouldn't do it.
if only he knew how wrong he was.