Suicide Pact

Suicide Pact 2

4 days earlier.

Ryan

Abigail

Christopher

Bethany

Me, Claire

4 completely entirely different people. Yet, by one strange similarity, all the same.

Ryan's a football player. All American boy. Blond hair, blue eyes, popular expensive car, nice house, rich. Everything, but he still apart of the 5. He has cancer, and is going to die. He doesn't want his family to suffer, there handsome son, fighting with all his might against a battle he'll never win. This is his ultimate act of bravery.

Abigail, on the other hand, was what most saw as a stereotype. Black clothes, pale skin, no friends... What most careless high school students would call a freak. But none of them knew shes been beaten by her stepfather for the last 4 years. He killed he mother when she was 9, and now...now she has nothing..no one.

Christopher is gay, his father has kicked him out of the house, and Christopher gets beat up at school almost everyday, for being himself. Just himself.

Bethany, the quiet girl buried in books. She was raped, and is now 4 months pregnant, barely showing. Carrying the child of the monster who left her for dead on a dirty ally sidewalk in the city. She carries an innocent child, although her innocence was stolen.

Me. I'm nothing.

And by a strange fate, we are all the same. Joint by one mesmerizing feeling.

Suicide.

Our suicides.

Of course we didn't openly reveal our secrets. Our pact was formed on rumors. Ryan's perky airhead cheerleader girlfriend saw the scars on his wrists. She told anyone who would listen. Christopher's brother, Austin, heard and told Christoper who'd already seen Bethany's. A teacher saw Abigail's tortured wrists, and sent her to guidance, where I spend most of my lunch periods.

And that was it. Notes were passed, whispers, and then, there was us. The Suicide pact. Of course no one knew.

We met every Tuesday during lunch in an old custodian closet.....

　

I walked slowly to the closet, savoring our depressed memories with each anxious step. The closet was cold as I stepped in silently, checking before I did to make sure we wouldn't get caught.

I was the first there. The others shuffled in minutes late, taking their seat on turned over rusty buckets. Here we are.

It was our last meaning before....well before our....end. The silence was awkward, just a suspended waiting to determine who was bravest to speak first. Our breathing was uneven as we stared at our feet. Eye contact was long lost.

"Do..do you all have it...figured out?"

It was Bethany. Her small raspy voice fought past her thin chapped lips, killing the silence in a few small gasps. We all looked up simultaneously, her eyes widened with embarrassment then narrowed as the glanced over each of our faces.

We'd planned this moment for months, but the plans seemed so close now then before. I found myself worrying more and more often, and silently wondered if they were braver then me. Tearing myself up inside.

"Im..I think..I think my dads shotgun." Ryan mumbled, staring up at me with those huge green eyes, through thick lashes. He'd always been an intoxicating beautiful, and when he looked at me like this, which he did often, it gave me goosebumps.

But aside from his handsome face, his response made me gasp. An urge of sudden pain pulsed through me, but I sucked in another pointless breath, and looked around our circle once more.

Bethany was first to catch my stare. She was going to drown herself Saturday. That's what she's planned. Planning her own end, something that is to be left to fate. A car accident...or a deadly disease. No. She'll hold her head under the water of her bathtub till the world around her fades to nothing, and she is left at peace.

Christopher...I thought for a moment then remembered the rope he'd bought last week and asked for help on how to tie it. And....we helped him. Helped him to die. Murderers, i suppose.

Abigail. Abigail has always been afraid of heights. So....to be as brave as possible before shes gone, she jumping from the tallest building in our small unchanging town. She promises to sing the lullaby her mother used to sing her, as she falls to reunite with the woman who gave her the life shes losing.

I suppose Ryan has settled on the gun. Although we still have 4 days left, and he's changed his mind on his fate quite a few times..

4 days.

　

Saturday, March 11, 8:00

Our grand finally.

A single bullet. The last bubble of breath through murky crimson water. A rope fastened tightly to the branch of a tree. A single effortless leap, onto a busy sidewalk.

And a hand full of untouched pills.....