Endogenous Euthanasia

.Nightmare.

Beep, beep, beep.

A quiet groan was heard through the quiet house. The figure who produced the noise sat up, bed creaking. Sunlight was leaking in through the closed shades of the window. Rubbing his eyes with his right hand, he pulled the shades open with his other, somehow keeping his balance as he was pretty much blind and tired.

Tennis Ball yawned, stretching his arms and legs as he looked at the clock, squinting. 7:03. He blinked away his sleepiness as he rolled off of his bed, landing perfectly on his feet, a skill he's learned to master over the years. He grabbed the glasses that sat on his desk, placing them on his face. Opening his door, he sluggishly walked down the hall and to his kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee.

After having a cup, he sighed, checking the time. 7:15.

"Alright, T.B.. Let's go meet up with GolfBall!"

With high happiness and a silly smile, he walked out of his house, heading towards GolfBall's laboratory. G.B. wanted to start a new experiment, something about trying to make prosthetic arms. He didn't know how to make them, but he was more than willing to help her out! He loved her after all, even if she only loved him platonically.

It took a bit, but he finally arrived at the laboratory, humming softly as he put in the code. A few seconds passed and the door opened, allowing T.B. inside. Walking down the steps, he called for G.B as the door closed behind him.

"Golfball, I'm here! Where are you?" Tennis Ball shouted, looking around. "Golfball?"

He continued to look around, slightly confused. Where could she be? He began his search for her, looking in every room, around every table, and even outside the laboratory. She was nowhere to be found. He frowned, rubbing his forehead.

"Maybe she didn't wake up yet? I should go check." He mumbled to himself, deciding to go check on G.B.

He walked out of the lab, pushing up his glasses as he checked the time. 7:45. He sighed, shaking his head. Walking to Golfball's house, he began to ponder about why she hadn't woken up yet. Many thoughts crossed his mind but his main idea was that she forgot to set her alarm last night when writing the blueprints for the prosthetic arms.

After a few minutes, he arrived at her house, knocking on the door. "Golfball, you in?" No response. He raised a brow, turning the doorknob. It was,, unlocked? That wasn't like her at all. Maybe she forgot to lock the door last night! Yes, that had to have been it! He pushed the door in, opening it as he peeked in.

"Golfball? Where are you? Did you sleep past your alarm again?" Tennis Ball called, looking around.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he walked in, closing the door behind him. He walked into the kitchen, calling for her. There was no response. He sighed, realizing she was probably up in her room. Smiling, he quietly made his way up the stairs, tiptoe-ing down the hall and to her room. He knocked gently, hand by the doorknob.

"Hey, Golfball, you awake yet? It's almost 8. You're late for the project." No response.

He sighed, knocking again. "Golfball, I don't want to invade, but if you're not going to wake up soon, I'm going to come in." No response.

Gathering his courage, he closed his eyes as he opened the door, soon opening his eyes. Looking straight to her bed, he turned on her light, not seeing her figure in the bed. Strange, she usually would've been in bed if she was asleep, unless she fell asleep at her desk, yes! Her desk!

He quickly darted his eyes over to her desk, but, before his lime green orbs reached the sight of her chair, they stared at the middle of the room. He stared, eyes unmoving as he stared at the figure in the middle of the room.

Dangling from the ceiling, was a extremely pale Golfball.

Tennis Ball couldn't believe what he was seeing. He lifted his glasses, rubbing his eyes and putting his glasses back on. Tears immediately began to well in his eyes, some already flowing down his cheeks. He couldn't believe this.

His best friend, his partner in crime, his mentor, his love, was,, Dead. So many questions began to race through his mind. How could this have happened? Why didn't she tell him? Was it because of him? Who had hurt her this badly? Why did she choose to do this? Was her past getting to her again? Why didn't she go to him? What happened?

He began to feel numb as he got up, quickly racing over to her body. He grabbed her by the waist with one arm, removing the noose from around her neck as he carefully brought her down. He fell to his knees almost instantly as he put his hand on her cold cheek, blinking back tears. He buried his face into her shoulder, sobbing loudly as he shook, clutching her lifeless frame.

"G,, Golfball,, Why,,? Why d-did you do this,,?"

He sobbed violently as he moved his head up, cradling her. He put his forehead against hers, shaking his head. He stayed like this for a few minutes, before moving his mouth towards hers and gently interlocking his lips with her cold ones. He kept this position before pulling away, looking at her. He soon sighed, shaking and picking up her body, walking out of her room and down the stairs. He opened her front door and walked out, nearly shouting from fear. All of the contestants were outside, watching him. He was confused, but soon, that confusion was replaced with horror. Every contestant either held up a razor blade, a knife, a gun, a stick, anything harmful and within three seconds, they all shot, stabbed, and sliced themselves to death all together.

Tennis Ball screamed as his eyes widened, nearly dropping Golfball's body. He heard a snap behind him, quickly turning his head. No one was behind him. He turned back around with tears rolling down his face. He gave a startled shriek as Golfball's body disappeared from his arms, everyone else vanishing into thin air. He looked down at his arms, eyes widening in shock as his sleeves were torn, cuts scattered all over his forearms. Blood dripped down his arms and onto the floor. As if by magic, he looked up, suddenly being in a dark room.

He looked to his left and right, panic coursing through his veins as he eventually looked straight again. There was a figure in front of him. He couldn't see who it was, but, they hand their arm up, object in hand against their head. He tilted his head as realization clouded his mind. He was staring at a reflection of himself. His arm was up, and the object in his hand was a gun. Tears began to stream down his face as his body began to shake.

After a few seconds he closed his eyes, sobbing loudly as he pulled the trigger.

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Tennis Ball shot up in bed, screaming as he gripped his bedsheet, sweat dripping down his forehead. Nearly gasping for air, he put his hand on his head, hyperventilating. After a few minutes, he calmed down, grabbing his glasses and looking at the time. 3:26 AM.

He sighed, grabbing his phone and pulling up his contacts. He clicked on one and held the phone up to his ear. The phone rang for a few seconds before the other person answered.

"What is it, Tennis Ball?"

"Golfball? Thank God you're okay."

"What's wrong?"

"Look, meet me at 7 sharp at the lab, we need to talk."