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Richie wasn't happy, and he hadn't been in a long while. His parents sucked, and his self-esteem was smaller then Stan's dick and that's saying a lot.
His mom was drunk most of the time and his dad was probably one of the worst people that Richie had ever met.
His mother and father were always arguing, they wouldn't care if it was 2 am or Christmas, the couldn't spend a day without fighting with each other.
But the two of them had one thing on common, they absolutely despised their excuse of a son and they never saw a reason for hiding it. Richie was treated badly and he would get hit most of the time and his parents always made him do everything on his own, meaning that they wouldn't help him with anything. At age 11 he had to grow up, because he couldn't live like a kid anymore.
He hated crying, it always made him vulnerable and pathetic, but lately it had been the only thing keeping him sane.
He would wake up and the feeling of sadness would overwhelm him, the simple thought of being seen by someone else then himself, was too much for him. "Fag" That insult was what Henry's gang and his parents usually called him. He would spend most of the time hanging out with the Loser's or at the arcade, but lately he couldn't find anything that he would actually enjoyed, it just seemed as nothing was worth it.
Was it even worth it? What was the meaning of his existence? Was it all worth it? Would anyone care if he died? Would anyone care enough to notice that he was gone?
Those questions filled his mind, and he knew exactly what the answer for each of the questions were. It wasn't worth it, his life was meaningless, and certainly no one would care if he died, with those thoughts on his mind, he took the razor that he had been admiring for the past 30 minutes.
Then he took the page that had he had been next to the razor, and wrote something that no one would ever care enough to read. When he was done he placed the page on the bathroom's sink and turned on the shower, he then proceeded to lay down on the cold porcelain tub, and without thinking twice he made two cuts on both of his wrist, the cuts were small, but deep.
He observed as tiny streams of blood started coming out from his cuts, he smiled as he felt himself falling unconscious, he was finally going to be free.