Four days pass. It's now Sunday.

I want to die.

I'm at my house. It's the middle of the afternoon, and the feeling of void has grown to great. They've both been yelling at me non-stop all weekend. My dad's been working on the car all weekend, constantly yelling at me throughout. Speaking of which...

"Richard get up here!" My dad exclaims. In his voice is wrath. Rage. Bitterness. I don't wanna go back upstairs. I let out an involuntary moan of despair as I head upstairs.

My father glares at me as I return to the back yard and he swipes the wrench from my hands.

"Sit there and wait," he demands pointing at a nearby chair, "and no phone while you do."

This is what the weekend has been. Sit, wait orders, get yelled at, don't write. I can't avoid attention since he's having me help him and my brother's at his day job. Just being near this guy makes me uneasy if it's for five minutes.

"Go get my coffee," he demands.

I comply. I head inside and grab the mug. I don't wanna go back out there. I can't go back out there. I just wanna run. I wanna be free.

I consider shattering the mug. Stabbing him with it. The law won't help me. I should take it into my own hands. Courts don't acknowledge verbal abuse. I say fuck the law!

"Do it," the itch encourages me, "teach him his place."

I grip the mug, my heart pounding in my chest as I line it up with the edge of the table.

"Do it," the voice is louder and stronger as I begin to life the mug.

"DO IT!" It roars.

I can't. I'll be no better than them. I have to make them pay... some other way. Yes. I have a way.

I continue to cooperate with my father until later that evening when the job is done. I ask if I can go biking, and he says sure.

I head out to the shed next to the main house and get out my bike. It's a very nice bike. Lent to me by one of my dad's friends.

I grip the black handles and admit the silver body of the bike. Besides the pen, it's my only escape. My ticket to freedom. Today's the day. They're going to pay for everything they've done. No matter what.

I get on the bike and breath in the fresh late Spring air. It smells pleasant, like freshly mowed grass. I speed down the street. I know where to go. I know what to do. I know how to do it.

I bike for a mile. Maybe two, and my destination is in sight. My final destination. A public dock near my house. I park my bike in the grass and remove my helmet. Wondering why I even wore it in the first place.

I'm done. I'm going to do it. This world won't help me. Why should I stay in it?

I take a piece of paper and a plastic bottle both of which I swiped on my way and and with a pencil, I write, "dear society, my name is Richard West. Chances are you have found this on my bloated corpse. Know that I chose this. That I chose death. Why? Because you refused to help me and those like me. Verbal abuse runs rampant and you do nothing for the victims. My parents were intensely verbally abusive to me. I choose death, so that you may finally take action against the parents of those like me. This was not suicide. I was murdered by their words. Please, save others from my fate. This is my dying wish. Goodbye."

I put the note in the bottle and the bottle in my pocket. I look down at the waves. All I have to do is jump in, swim out, and stop. Just sink, drown, and die. If my parents don't die from guilt, the note will get to Congress or something and laws will be made so they'll be punished. Either way, I finally win.

The waves look so peaceful, welcoming. I walk to the edge of the docks and prepare to start my last swim.

"Richard?" A voice behind me asks, "that you?"

I turn around, and to my surprise, I see Lily. The odd feeling returns.

"Hey Lily," I smile, "what are you doing here?"

"I work here," she explains, "you?"

"Just relaxing I suppose," I lie.

She looks at me for a moment and sits at the edge of the docks next to me. I decide to sit as well. May as well.

"Are you OK?" Lily asks.

"Yeah," I lie, "I'm fine."

Lily looks at me with concern and asks, "it's your parents, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I admit, "came down here to... get away."

"What's that in your pocket?" Lily asks.

"Oh," I lie, "just something I wrote to vent. I was gonna set it out. See where it lands."

"Well do it," Lily smiles.

Annnnnd she called my bluff. God dammit. Guess I just gotta hope I've done it by the time it's found. I'm still gonna, just...

Not right now.

I set the bottle in the water and it slowly drifts away.

"Whelp," I get up, "I better go. I'll be biking a lot during Summer, so I'll probably see you again."

"Cool," Lily replies, "sounds fun. See ya later."

I get on my bike and ride off. I feel the feeling again. What is it? Why is it?

"Ignore it," the voice demands, "we have stories to write. Besides, you're gonna do it soon anyways. You should've done it now, but noooooo. You had to run into her."

"What's she got to do with this?" I demand.

"Forget it," the voice sighs, "just go home."

"Not home," I remind.

"Right," the voice corrects itself, "let's go back to Hell."

I sigh and continue. I'll do it. Just not today. I'm not sure why I didn't. Something about this feeling stopped me...

I must be certain to write a bunch before I do it so I don't feel it again...