*TRIGGER WARNING*
Contains self-harm and talks of suicide
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I remember the day Marquilla and I met like it was yesterday. She wasn't wearing anything special—just jeans and a white tee with some black flats. I knew I was in for the ride of my life the moment I laid eyes on her. One look, and I was immediately captured. Marquilla has a presence some find arrogant, but she's regal to me.

    That moment kicked off the best time of my life regardless of the many downs we had. With Marquilla, I felt like nothing could harm me because we were unstoppable together.

     I was flying without wings whenever I was with her. She showed me that impossible was possible, and risks were worth taking. She helped me approach music in ways I never imagined and brought me back up when I was down. Sure we bickered and she's bossy, but we worked. I wouldn't change anything about our relationship.

    The girls have argued that Marquilla was too pushy and treated me unfairly; I beg to differ. I believe we balanced each other out.

    I'm not an argumentative person, nor am I naturally comfortable with criticism and can hurt someone's feelings. I'm more of an encourager. I like to make people feel good about themselves because you never know what people are going through. I'm all for the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all" motto. It's better to be kind to everyone because in turn, it makes you feel good.

    Marquilla is someone who doesn't give a shit if someone's feelings are hurt. She'll say whatever's on her mind without thinking about the consequences. I can never be that outspoken; I admire her for that quality. She's also highly aggressive—she'll do ANYTHING to get what she wants and won't stop until she gets it. I'm more reserved and would rather let the cards deal themselves out.

    They do say opposites attract. And we did. We learned so much and balanced each other beautifully. I learned how to be more aggressive with my ideas and grow a thicker skin thanks to Marquilla. In turn, she showed me a more compassionate side. She needs someone to teach her kindness and understanding; she's always been a hot-headed go getter. Our differences are exactly why our relationship lasted as long as it did. I'll cherish those moments forever.

    I scan the black hole that is Lindsay's room. I have night vision now—I have something similar to it now because these lights haven't been on since I locked myself in here. I can outline every piece of furniture and identify each object. I've memorized everything now. Screw the light.

    My gaze shifts to the scars on my arm—my battle scars. I can't physically see how they've dulled into dark brown and red marks, but I know they're there. They don't look like they're fading, and I doubt they'll ever change. I hurt myself because I shut down. These battle scars are proof.

    I may have physically shut myself from the world, but I'm aware of what's been happening lately. I've kept tabs on all things relating to my friends thanks to social media. I know about Marquilla's new song and Skylar's record-breaking album. Of course Crimson would chart well!

    I know about Reli and Sofia's tours, how school's treating Lorraine, and Lindsay's relationship. I know it all. And everyone is doing fine without me. Life has continued and prospered, as it should.

    Everyone is fine without you, Jase. Look at them! I think as I stare out the window, admiring the night sky. Nobody seems worried about you anymore. Why should they? They've moved on. Lorraine tries to speak to you every night, but she probably doesn't really care. She does it to make sure you're still alive. And you are. Well, not really. You're alive in every way except in spirit.

    You haven't eaten since your lockdown except for the three boxes of crackers that were already in here. The only indication of your life still happening is the fact that you're still breathing. Other than that, you're barely alive.

    Everyone would say it's not my fault I've sunk this deep. I agree. How did Jason Flamel dive into the depths of the ocean where it's cold, dark, and hard to breathe? How does someone like me become so depressed, they're suicidal?

    Fame. The media's been on my case since "Just Once," but they weren't brutal until my arrest skewed what really happened. That moment created a cosmic catastrophe with my death warrant. Since then, the attacks have been relentless and my anger towards humanity skyrocketed.

    Then there's Marquilla and Skeeter. I can't deal with this. I can't handle the way he's haunted me and his constant lectures about my image. They created this toxicity that's too much for me to bear. I'm okay with being Marquilla's friend, but it hurts. I'm okay with Skeeter acting like an over-protective dad, but I can't stand it when my image precedes my feelings.

    I hear a door open, which must mean Lorraine's back from wherever she's been. I check the time on my phone and see it's nearly one in the morning. Nothing happens for a while, so I chill by the window and continue gazing outside.

    I open the window, only to be greeted by a warm blast of air. I close my eyes and breathe it in, clearing my mind and welcoming the fresh air as it envelopes me. Fresh air is comforting when you feel suffocated. I deserve to feel like that for locking myself up here like some damsel in distress. It's stuffy up here!

    The girls' view of the Hollywood sign is incredible. From where I'm sitting, I can see it clearly. I scan the view and smile at how beautifully LA looks from his height. Lindsay's lucky for this view. What's more enticing than this magnificent sight is the distance from the ground.

    "You must be at least 200 feet from the ground," I think aloud as I climb onto the windowsill's edge. "If you tip yourself over, it could all end in a matter of seconds."

    Every single fear, every single thought that's eating you alive will stop if you jump. Think about it, Jason. What are the odds of surviving? Slim to none. Everything will end once you hit that concrete. Your mind will FINALLY be at peace once you're dead.

    No more bad press, no more judgmental people waiting for you to mess up again. You'll be free from it all. Only God can judge you from here, and He will hopefully forgive you. You can do it, Jason. Jump. Take one last breath in and just JUMP!

    "Jason, are you awake?" Lorraine asks. She sounds concerned.

    "Yeah. I can't sleep," I respond.

    "Where exactly are you? You sound like you're kinda far away."

    "Sitting on the windowsill."

    Silence. Knowing Lorraine and the way I've been acting lately it's not a good breath of silence. I can imagine her hardcore panicking on the other side of the door. She probably thinks I'm about to jump to my death, which is what I was just thinking about doing. I should say something so she doesn't run outside and beg me to stay.

    "I'm not gonna jump, Lorraine," I say as I hop away from the window. "I'm back inside. I'm fine."

    "Promise?" she asks, her voice a little hoarse. I think she already started crying.

    "Yes! I swear I'm away from the window now."

    I shut the window and walk towards the door. So that Lorraine knows I'm not lying, I knock on the door twice before slumping down to sit. She exhales in relief; that definitely made her feel better. I can tell this will be a long night—morning from the way our conversation started. I have this gut feeling about it.

    "Jason, can you please unlock the door?" she frantically requests. "Please, Jase. Open the door."

    "I'm sorry, Lorraine. I can't do that."

    "Why not?"

    "I don't want you to see me. I don't want anyone to see me. I just want to be left alone. It's better this way."

    "Jase..."

    The way she said my name makes me feel horrendous. The pain in her voice is heartbreaking; she's deathly concerned. But I'm sticking to my guns. I don't care how long it's been since I last saw anyone's face in person. I just don't want to be a burden to anyone, which is what I'd be the second I open this door. I have to stay here, away from the outside world until goodness knows how long.

    "Sure you can, Jase. I brought up something for you to eat and drink. I know how much you love peanut butter and caramel cookies. I have a plate for you with a glass of almond milk."

    "Almond milk, Lorraine? Really?" I jest.

    "You're joking around. That's a good sign. At least you haven't lost your sense of humor. Now will you please open the door?"

    Rather than answer her question, I retrieve the pocket knife that's been in my pocket since last night. I pull up the blade and inspect the metal, raising it to eye level to admire its sheen and sharpness.

    Okay, maybe that sounds weird since I'm sitting in the dark and the only light around consists of the faint ones emitted through the window poking through the door's cracks. The knife still appears shiny to me.

    I run a finger along the dull side of the blade and smirk. I might not jump out the window, but there's a high chance this knife can inflict enough damage. I need to cut deep enough so the blade penetrates the right layers of skin. It'll probably hurt like hell, but I'm through with these emotions. I'm done with this. I'm done with EVERYTHING!

    "Hey Jase, you still awake or did you fall asleep yet?" Lorraine wonders.

    "I'm still awake," I reply. "I don't know how long I'll stay awake, though. I guess it just depends."

    "Depends on what? Jason, what are you saying?"

    "Don't worry, Lorraine. I promise I will. Just don't make a big fuss out of it. You should head to bed. It's late."   

    I hear Lorraine swiftly jump onto her feet, and she rattles the handle. She shouts my name and continues shaking the door in a frenzy, each cry becoming more worried. While she loses her shit, I stare at the knife, particularly the sharpest bit. I suck in my breath and close my eyes as I position the knife against my skin.

    Tears are already flowing and I have yet to add pressure. The mere thought of what I'm about to do is making me emotional. I'm about to say goodbye to everything I've known for the past twenty years and step into a world unknown to the living.

    The only way anyone would know what happens after your heart stops beating and you've taken your last breath is if they've bounced back from nearly dying. Even then, they'd have no clue about the true events of the Afterlife. Nobody knows what's next until they really die.

    There's nothing to fear, Jase. It'll be okay once this is all over, I tell myself as soon as I press the blade harder against my skin. Everyone will understand why you're doing this. You're not disappointing anyone by dying. You're simply relieving your own pain.

    You don't have the people who've given you purpose anymore. You quit music, Marquilla dumped you, and Lindsay's happily in a relationship with Sofia's brother. Mom and Jess will be fine. They'll inherit your wealth; they'll be set for life thanks to you!

    Everyone's lives are fine. Why would it be different when you leave? Life won't stop just because you're dead, Jason. Dig deeper! Fight through the pain and tears. Don't look at the blood!

    The rattling ceases. Lorraine must have given up on waiting. I don't blame her; I'm such an ass to deal with. She won't have to deal with me for much longer, anyways.

    I'm glad she decided to stop. The loud noises would have given me a headache and I don't think I could take it. The noise probably would have made my situation worse. The combination of loud banging, the searing pain from the cut skin, and my wooziness would be hellish.

    Time feels like it's passing very sluggishly. It's probably only been five minutes since Lorraine left, but it feels like so much longer! Half an hour sounds more accurate than a few minutes!

    I haven't peaked at the damage yet, but my body can feel that it's enough to drain my blood. I stop the brain from further cutting with that in mind.

    My consciousness swiftly dwindles and my eyes fight to stay open. My head vigorously spins, unable to steady my focus. My eyes are on Lindsay's bookshelf. I know there's only one, but it looks like there are two of them. Boy, am I losing it!

    I somehow muster enough energy to grab my phone. I open the messages with the one person I'd like peace with before I leave: Marquilla.

ME: I luv u. Don't miss me too much.

    I leave it at that, not expecting a response. Marquilla's busy and I understand if I'm the last person she wants to text. The song said it all, really. Why should she respond when Shooting Stars is nearing release date?  But a notification sounds just as I set my phone on the ground. I quickly glance at the message and weakly smile.

MARQUILLA: Promise I'm not. Take care. Sorry I yelled at you.

    Despite the harsh words she said after we split, it's nice to see a positive response from her. It makes me feel slightly better about leaving everything behind. At least I know she doesn't completely hate my guts.

    My mind, body, and spirit finally give in. my breath grows heavier with each passing second and my heartbeat, slower. This is it. It's time for me to leave Earth.

    I hear footsteps quickly ascend the stairs. Soon enough, Lorraine's back at it with the banging and shouting. This time, I don't respond to her desperate cries. Every fiber of my being is now disconnected, granting me immunity to the noise. This time, I jus—

A/N:

So...I realize my stories can be quite dark. You probably hate me. It's okay. Pray for Jason. Love you xx