Violent Depression

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
darkness clouds his thoughts from seeing the need to live...

Submitted: April 17, 2008

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Submitted: April 17, 2008



By: Kristyn D'Angiolillo
Darkness hung around him. Not just in the room, but in his mind as well. Everything was wrong. Very very wrong. And he couldn’t take it anymore. He tried to ignore the feelings of deed, deep depression pulling on the edges of his thoughts. If he could just make it through the night. Through to the next day, he would be fine. But the longer he laid there in the darkness of his bedroom, the more he knew that the whole vicious cycle would start all over again the next night. No. Enough was enough. He needed to end this. End it now.
And so he crept out of bed, silently stealing into the hallway. His footfalls were like the pounding sound of a heartbeat as he made his way to the garage, trying to make as little noise as possible. There was no need to wake his parents. They would find out in the morning.
The floor was as cold as death itself. He wasn’t wearing any socks. He wouldn’t need them. Feeling along the wall, his trembling hand found the light switch and turned it on. Glaringly bright light filled the empty garage and he squinted his eyes until the adjusted. Once he could see, he began to search.
When he finally found what he was looking for, he looked down at it, not sure if he was doing the right thing. But it was too late to go back. He’d already made his decision, and he was going to stick to it. He reached down and picked it up. He could feel the rough coils between his fingers and tried not to imagine what they would feel like around his throat.
Pulling his dad’s old stool out from under his old workbench, he placed it underneath the tracks of the garage door. He stood on top of it and began to prepare the rope. Once it was ready, he got down and went to go find a piece of paper and a pen deciding he would leave a note to his parents. It was impolite to leave without saying goodbye.
 Sorry, but I had to do this
You never were really there for me
And now you never will be
You had your chance
You blew it
Now it’s over
Tucking the paper into pocket and tossing the pen aside, he climbed back onto the stool, put the rope around his neck, took his very last breath, and jumped.

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