I woke up to the sound of what was most definitely my parents fighting, again. I slowly rubbed my eyes, debating on whether I would go through with the one thing that had lingered in my mind constantly since I had thought it, suicide. It was against everything I knew and believed, but it was my only way out. Yes, school was another way, but when you're afraid of being like everyone else for fear of your life going nowhere, you tend to not have many friends. I do have acquaintances, though, not friends. But, they tend to not last long either.
I got out of bed and looked at my clock at my bedside, squinting at the bright red numbers. It was only three in the morning.
Well, there goes sleep.
I got dressed in what could be called school attire, jeans and a t-shirt. I rushed to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and hair, before heading downstairs. I might as well look prepared when I die. I know, very selfish. I just hope God forgives me.
I walked right past my parents as they bickered over my mom's affairs. Apparently, she had delved too deep into this esoterical stuff, whatever that means, and sort of went out to second base. Now, she can't remember half the stuff she's done, so she accuses my dad of all sorts of things, such as abuse and infidelity. I, for one, know that my dad has not committed anything like that. I was around him more than she.
I don't think they even noticed as I walked by, and if they did, they were too preoccupied to care. Either way, I grabbed my keys and jacket off the kitchen table and headed out the door into the blistering cold.
Maybe I should write a letter explaining my actions. It would be legitimate. But, what were my reasons?
I thought back to all that I had endured, not much compared to some. My life wasn't even half bad, boring maybe, but not bad.
It could be that I feared my life amounting to nothing, being an average person with an average life. Three years back I had wanted to be a superhero and save people's lives, that was before I got a lecture from my mom explaining that I should choose a career that's actually possible. Now, I haven't the slightest clue what I want to do once I graduate next year.
I revved my black, ‘92 Mercedes, which could be heard from inside the house. I knew this was my own way of a silent protest to what I was going to do. I wanted them to hear me leaving, to stop me before I did it, to bring me back inside and ask where I was going, or even what was wrong. But, nothing happened.
I waited a couple of seconds before I backed up, and drove into the night. I didn't bother turning on the heater, yet. I'd be plenty warm when I died.
I looked over to the passenger seat and noticed the small, white cloth that would soon be the demise of me. In so many stories, white had always symbolized purity or life, but in my case, it represented the end of all that I had accomplished, which wasn't much by any standard.
I turned off onto a country road, seeing what looked like fields of corn and wheat for miles on end. I also saw cows, too. At least, that's what these objects resembled at night to me. There were some houses that lined this desolate road, but none of their lights were on. It figures since it was, after all, a little after three in the morning.
Up ahead there was a large tree to the side of the road with enough open space for me to park. My hands trembled slightly with fear.
Did I really want to go through with this?
The tree almost looked like it was coming to greet me as I got closer and closer to it, approaching it much faster than I was prepared for. I parked my car and got out to take my last breather.
I stared up at the stars, and noticed how clear the sky was here, almost magnifying everything. I could even see the supposed man in the moon. After five minutes, my nerves still hadn't calmed down, but I walked anyways to the passenger's side and took out that small piece of cloth before placing it into my hand.
My hands were still trembling as I walked back to the exhaust pipe. I leaned down to place it snug in there, but my hand seemed reluctant. I ignored it and jammed it tight into it.
The sooner, the better. The longer I take, the more time I'll have to talk myself out of this.
I got back in my car, now turning on the heater. I leaned my seat back and turned on the radio, hearing It Ends Tonight by The All-American Rejects. I instantly turned it to another station, not wanting to hear those three words. Just when I thought I was out of the clear, You're Beautiful by James Blunt came on; the one song that had been overplayed, and that reminded me of my fate, because he did at the end, in that music video, kill himself.
I flipped stations until I heard a song that didn't seem to reiterate or have key words relating with what I was about to do.
I could feel my eyes blur with tears, so I shut them, feeling the tears run down my cheeks.
I'm so sorry. Please forgive me God. I know I'm a coward for doing this, but please forgive me.
I waited for what seemed like hours, but every time I looked at the clock in my car, it showed only a minute passing by. I shut my eyes once again, knowing that the fumes, which I was starting to smell, would make me pass out. Then, I would die a peaceful, coward's death.
I hummed a soft tune to myself, trying desperately to stop my jagged breathing.
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