Jack.

It’s currently two in the morning. I’m sitting at my desk, the light illuminating from my lamp lighting up the only space I need in my room. My arms are covered in everything from red, fresh cuts that I made a little over an hour ago to pink, puffy scars from cutting too deep. No one knows I’m unhappy. No one’s suspects that I cut. Not even my parents. No one’s noticed my bony figure from starving myself. No one’s noticed my tired eyes from lack of sleep. No one’s noticed my screwed up mental state.
I guess I like it that way. Everyone thinks I’m happy, which I guess is good, but at the same time it hurts because no one asks if I’m okay. I isolate myself so no one finds out, but I just make myself even lonelier. I don’t know how people haven’t noticed the bullying that happens to me, but again… I don’t have people asking me the three word question I hate so much.
I’m currently writing my suicide note because today is the day. Today is the day I’m going to do it. My gun is loaded with a single bullet.
Dear mom and dad, May and Joe,
I want to start off by saying, I love you. I know you’re probably wondering why I chose to do this since you haven’t suspected anything. If I told you, it’d break your heart, so I’m just going to say, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I’ve reached a point in my life where nothing matters. No one cares. Life is… just… meaningless. So, if you’re reading this, I’m probably off somewhere, so don’t look for me. Don’t miss me too much okay?
Your son, your brother,
Jack.
I don’t want to put details in about what’s going on. They don’t need to know I’m bullied. They don’t need to know I’ve wanted to kill myself every day since eighth grade. They don’t know I’ve been planning this for years. They don’t know how much I hate myself. They haven’t even noticed that I haven’t been eating. I’ve been spending my time at Rian’s to put off this event. Yes, to put it off.
I’m scared that if it fails, I’ll be in the hospital and everyone will find out. Everyone will know that I’m a weak, seventeen year old boy with depression and they’d attack me even more. My family will be crying and that will make another attempt even harder.
I stare at the page and close my eyes, leaning back in the chair. I then grab the letter and put it on my bed that I had made so it looks nice. I cleaned up my mess of a room to look nice as well. If I’m not returning, I might as well do the one thing my mom constantly asks me to do because soon she won’t have to bug anyone about it. They don’t have anything to clean up. They won’t have any reason to come back in here after they find that note and when they wake up and read that note, I’ll be gone.
I go into my closet and pull out my box. I set it on my bed and open it. What sits in there is the gun that my dad gave me for self-defense in case someone were to break in. My hands begin to shake as I pick up the gun, holding it in both of my hands.
“Today is the day.” I whisper to myself. I set it on my bed and put the box back in my closet. I pull out an oversized hoodie from my closet and throw it on, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. I shove those in my pocket as well along with the gun.
I take a breath staring at my room.
“Goodbye.” I whisper. I leave my room quietly, shutting my door. I look at the rooms of my parents, my sister and my brother, taking a breath. I quietly descend the stairs and sneak myself outside. I head to the woods not too far from my house and sneak to the clearing where I’ve chosen to do this.
I lean against a tree and sit down, bending my knees so my feet rest flat on the ground. I pull out my cigarettes and my lighter and pull a cigarette out of the package. I light it and bring the cigarette to my lips with my shaky hand.
I’m finally going to do it after years of waiting. I’m finally going to end it. After maybe ten minutes, I take a breath and put out my cigarette. I pull out the gun and stare at it, my hands beginning to shake. I’m really going to do this? I’m going to leave May and Joe and my parents and Rian and Zack? What will Rian and Zack do without their guitarist?
I shake my head.
Stop it, you’re going to end it. You’re going to do it. No one cares. No one’s noticed, can’t you see? Whether you’re dead or alive won’t affect them in the slightest. You’re better off six feet under.
I cock the gun, but I don’t put it to my head. Not yet. I put my finger on the trigger and just stare at it. I can do this. I can do this.
I take a breath and close my eyes, holding the gun to my head with shaky hands.
“Goodbye.”

Alex.

I leave my house because I’m sick of my dad yelling at everyone in this house at two in the morning. We just moved here two days ago and my mom hasn’t sent me to school yet. She says she’s sending me today though. I wasn’t going to avoid school forever. I’ve managed to keep my mental state intact even though my dad likes to blame me for everything. My brother always tells me that it’s not my fault and not to listen to him. Why should I anyway?
I can only take his yelling for so long, however, without considering slitting my wrists open. I manage to refrain from that when I realized I can just leave and come back once I’ve calmed myself down. So I just walk. I find myself in the woods, which should creep me out at two in the morning, but it doesn’t. I walk through the trees in the dark, not worried about some psycho-maniac coming to kill me. Though in this town, I don’t know if there even are psycho-maniacs around here.
I see a clearing up ahead as my eyes adjust to the pitch darkness of the woods. I spot a silhouette leaning against a tree and then I see a small flame before it goes out. I walk a little closer, careful not to make any noise. I stand there for a minute, watching this person. It seems creepy, I know, but… I couldn’t help it. I was intrigued about the fact that there’s someone else up at two in the morning in the woods, clearly smoking a cigarette.
After a few minutes, they put it out and then I see a familiar looking silhouette that makes me panic. They have a gun?! Maybe I was wrong about the psycho-maniac thing, but then I realize what they’re really doing with it. I watch them as they slowly bring it to their head and that’s when I burst into a full out sprint. I make the risky move of knocking it out of their hand and luckily not hearing gunfire which would’ve had my ears ringing for an hour.
I trip on their foot, though, and fall over. So heroic of me.
I sit up and look at the kid who I can now see is a boy. He stares at me. Because it’s so dark, I can’t see his facial expression too well, but from the incident that just happened, he’s probably not very happy with me, a stranger who just saved his life.
“Why did you do that?” He asks, sounding strangely calm for the circumstances of the situation. I open my mouth to speak, but for some reason become tongue-tied.
“I… I was… I saved you.”
“I didn’t want to be saved.” He says. “Why do you think I’m out here at two in the morning with a gun to my head?” he asks, slowly becoming a mix of sad and angry.
“There’s people out there who want you here. Imagine how much pain they’d be in.”
“You don’t know me.” He says.
“Where did you even get a gun at your age?” I ask him.
“My dad.” He says. I look at him strangely. Why would his dad give him a gun? With his mental state is doesn’t seem like a smart choice for an adult to make unless he wanted his son dead. “For self-defense.” He tells me.
“This isn’t self-defense.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” He says simply. I’m speechless. “I should go.” He says. He grabs the gun and gets up, walking away.
“Wait.” I say. He stops. “What’s your name?” He doesn’t answer, he just walks off. I take a breath and fall back on the ground.
If I ever saw him again, he’d probably punch me. I did a good thing right? I could’ve turned around, but I saved him. Why can’t he be grateful of that?

Notes

A new story because i like this. I don't know.
Title credit: Trapdoor by twenty one pilots.
-Jenna.