Chapter 1: Hopeless
The ring of the solid gold alarm clock signalled the beginning of his day. It also signalled the beginning of his personal, customized hell. He came from a noble family. A perfectionist family. A family that allowed no mistakes. His parents were distant, which might be an understatement. He was but an object to them, a means to an end. He was technically rich, but he wasn't allowed to buy anything with the money. He lived under a totalitarian family. And he was absolutely miserable.
Everyday, the same old thing. He followed a strict schedule that allowed no errors. Everyday. Get up. Brush teeth. Go to school. Come back. Get yelled at for not being perfect. Banished to his room. Read himself to sleep. Repeat. His goal in life was to become happier, and endlessly pursued every last glimmering hope. After all, even the oppressed have desires of their own. He read countless books, and asked countless people, whether they be his classmates or somewhat kind looking passerby, how he could become happier. Every time, he got the same answer: “Just do what you love to do!”
The problem was, there were no hobbies, no interests, and definitely no favorite things that he wanted to do, or even remotely wished to associate himself with. The closest thing he had to a hobby was staying indoors. Although no one knew it, his anger and frustration towards the years of neglect he had met at the hands of fate were about to boil over. At a glance, there was no way anyone would know he was discontent at all with his life. It all came from years of grueling practice and emotional deadening. He contained the raging inferno of emotion inside him, tucked away safely, until the day it would be welcomed in the world.
One day, while browsing through his father’s newspapers, he discovered a way out of his agonizing existential crisis. He remembered that at school, there were computers. And with computers, there was fun. What kind of fun, he didn't know. Of course, as he lived in a very elitist environment, social development was much more important than technological education. Hence, he had never truly experienced the wonders of a well-made computer game or the simple joy in reading a nice email. But a gamble would have to be made, and he decided to take a chance, and set out to obtain one of these little bundles of happiness. It was not like he had never used a computer before, he had simply never had one of his own.
However, he was unable to purchase anything by himself, as his bank account had a multi-digit password only known to his parents. Being a child, he had tried guessing the number multiple times. But like a child, he had absolutely no chance of actually guessing it. Having no other option available to him, he turned to the people he would have avoided at all costs in any other situation. His parents. He stressed the educational functions of a computer to his parents, and when that didn’t work, he promised he would be more perfect, and get only the best grades in school. His parents, hearing promise upon promise upon promise, could only grudgingly relent.
His new PC was scheduled to arrive in three weeks, during which he gained a slightly more optimistic, hopeful outlook of life. He tried harder in school, and actually showed the teachers that he was not mentally retarded. In fact, he was actually quite an intelligent person. He just never felt the need to complete the schoolwork assigned to him. This happy time for him affected his expressions too. He smiled and actually went outside in the sun for a few minutes once. Quite a while passed, and quite a few calls were made to ensure that his holy grail would be delivered. The day came when the delivery truck stopped taking its sweet time and arrived at his door, and when the doorbell rang, a terrorist compound couldn't have stopped him from rushing to the door.
He saw the package. He brought it inside, and savagely tore it open, maliciously destroying the cardboard and packing peanuts inside. After much cardboard box cruelty and some domestic housecleaning, he carefully, ever so carefully placed the freshly excavated laptop on his desk. His finger carefully pushed down on the button that he had awaited for so long, and when the screen flickered to life, he almost exploded with joy. With his trusty new computative device, he was bound for a journey of discovery and possible bunny killing.
The computer allowed him to do wondrous things, and his knowledge expanded exponentially. The greatest thing that happened to him, besides getting a computer, was discovering social networking. He slapped together a profile very different from his own, and actually started making friends. He became obsessed with his PC, using it day and night. Once he put on his headphones, it would be hours before he even so much as glanced back into the real world.
It has been said before, however, that nothing golden can stay. This was certainly true in his case. His parents became concerned with his ever growing obsession with the fabricated world. Finally, they took action and stepped in like the good parents they were. For once, they did something responsible parents would. But like all victims that have had their beloved electronic devices removed from their lives, he suffered.
Without something to preoccupy his days, his idle hours were once again freed up, and once again filled with angry, vicious thoughts. Angry, vicious thoughts tend to be somewhat angry and a bit vicious, so he decided to vent this viciousness by going outside. Throwing open his front door, he winced as warm sunshine caressed his face. The few days he had been in the sun hadn't exactly been able to accustom him to nature. Better late than never, so he set out to explore the mysterious land beyond. Little did he know of what he would find.
He stepped onto the street between the two rows of houses. On both sides, massive mansions loomed over well-trimmed lawns and overdecorated front yards. Perhaps adventure would await on the other side. Closing his eyes, he smiled as he imagined himself running across an empty field, with no rules to bind him. He laughed as he thought about it, but then a voice jerked him out of his daydream.
"Watch out!" Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. He wasn't prepared for the physical assault, and he fell backwards, knocking over both him and his assailer. They both fell into the grass, kicking and flailing. A car whizzed by, swerving left and right, just as he fell backwards. With a start, he realized that his life had just been saved. Brushing himself off, he got up and prepared to thank his savior. He turned around and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His savior was a girl.
She was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Her dirty blonde hair was unkempt, yet it looked completely natural. Her emerald eyes bored into his. They were full of reproach and questioning.
"Didn't your parents ever tell you to look twice before crossing the street, you could've died there, you know!"
He wasn't sure how to respond. His parents had never told him anything about looking twice before crossing a road. The only thing he was to look twice at was his math homework. The tone of her voice ticked him off though. She didn't talk like his mom said girls should talk. She sounded more like some kind of rebellious boy than a girl.
"Didn't your parents ever tell you how to behave? Why don't you go back to your tea party?" It was probably a mean thing to say, and in retrospect, probably extremely sexist, but he was naive, and she was annoying.
They stomped away after that, each going their own way. But after a day filled with careful contemplation, he decided it was best if he at least thanked her for saving him. He grimaced, imagining her gloating expression as he kneeled down before her. He shook his head to clear his mind of such frightening thoughts. Chivalry trumped personal honor at this point. What honor would I have if I had been killed by a car like some common squirrel? So he swallowed his pride and headed for the girl's home.
"What do you want? Are you here to beg for forgiveness?" she crossed her arms and turned her face away.
"Something like that. I realized that I forgot to thank you yesterday. So, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. I am in your debt, my lady." He was encouraged by the fact that she seemed upset. It was much easier to deal with than taunting.
"Wha-" she began, her cheeks reddening.
The expression on her face was priceless. He was mid bow, but he couldn't maintain the air of formality any more. It was too much. He dropped to the ground and began laughing.
"H-hey! Stop laughing! What's so funny?" she kicked him, but she clearly wasn't trying to hurt him. So he just laughed some more.
By the time he finally calmed down, she had her arms crossed and face turned away again. It was so strange, seeing her behave like that, but perhaps it was just because he had never really interacted with a girl before.
"If you're just gonna laugh at me, I'm closing the door." she began to reach for her door handle.
Just then, he felt something strange resound inside of him. It was unlike anything that he had ever felt before. He was an unspoiled child: his parents had made sure of that. If he wanted something, he had to work for it. But at that moment, he felt something. He wanted to stay. It was the first time someone made him laugh. Laughing felt good. Laughter lifts a weight off the soul, if only for a little while.
"Sorry, sorry, it's been a while since I've laughed like that." he was still beaming from ear to ear as he tried to apologize.
"Um, so, when I finish up my lessons for today, could I come over again?" he asked, averting his eyes. What did I just say? Why did I just say that? Now I've done it. He winced and prepared for a physical assault. To his surprise, it didn't come. Or at least, it didn't come in the way that he thought it would.
He opened his eyes and found her face altogether too close to his. She hugged him with a crushing strength, almost suffocating him. He would have protested, but when he saw her tears, he shut his mouth. He couldn't really talk anyway, as his lungs had been completely crushed, but that's beside the point. What was he supposed to do? Hug her back? Stand there? Pet her head?
"Thank you. Y-you're the o-only one that e-ever...e-ever..." her words were broken by the heaving of her shoulders and the tears falling from her eyes. He sighed. It was a neighberhood of moneybags, after all. Meeting another distressed child was to be expected. He wrapped his arms around her, and drew her in close.
"I have to thank you too. Thank you for showing me that I'm not alone." he whispered softly in her ear, unsure what else to say. And then there was silence. There was no need for words, for it was simply quiet companionship. But there's a time for meetings and a time for partings. He softly released her, and she did the same. She took one last look at him, smiled, and closed her door. He smiled too, and his smile stayed on his face even when he went to sleep.
The world was a cruel place. It had allowed him to glimpse at the magnificence of life, but just as quickly quashed that utopia. He worked diligently, putting more effort than ever before into his lessons and work, finishing them faster and faster. Upon finally recieving a respite from the tedious labor, he bolted out the door and to the only other place he could think of. He knocked on the door, expecting her to come running. Instead, he got no response. A bit stymied, but not defeated, he rang the doorbell. This time, a middle-aged lady came after some time had passed. She had the same dirty-blonde hair as her, but the lady's hair was streaked with silver and white. And she was crying.
"I'm sorry, our family is going through some tough times right now. Could you come back later?" she replied in an impressively strong voice. He was awed by her willpower. She was clearly distressed, but you couldn't tell at all from the voice. Was this what it meant to be a true blueblood? He wondered why she was crying. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. The stony mask that had masked her expressions shattered into pieces. Dropping her face into her hands, she bitterly wept.
"My daughter- my daughter killed herself last night!" she was almost screaming in hysteria.
A dull thud resonated through my mind. The world slowed down. Everything faded away. I couldn't hear her weeping. The world around me seemed to become a thick gelatin. My movements were sluggish and everything seemed to be wobbling. A surge of nausea accompanied and was amplified by the wobbling. He fell to his knees, eyes wide with disbelief. She wouldn't kill herself. We were friends right? More than friends, right? I was going to be there for her, and in return, she was always going to be there for me, right? Wasn't that our promise? Wasn't I the one? He couldn't, wouldn't understand.
But in some dark recess of his mind, something clicked. It whispered the sinister truth to him, but he pushed it back. He didn't dare believe it, but the thought echoed through the chambers of his brain until it was the only sound pounding in his ears. I said I would be there for her, but I wasn't. It's been weeks since I've visited her. What might she have been thinking, trapped in the prison that she is obligated to call her home? He punched the ground. He punched the ground again. And again. And again. He punched the ground until his fist bled, and then he kept punching it. His parents eventually came and dragged him away, apologizing to the lady for being an inconvenience. He was scolded severely after getting home, but he couldn't hear anything that they said. He was still in a daze, even as he slipped into bed.
Night is a powerful thing. While you lie there, alone, with only the weak light of the moon to illuminate your room, you almost become another person. And as he lay there, he could only think of one thing.
Death was the only way out of his misery. He vowed to bring it upon himself, the ultimate sacrifice, in order to escape his life. He would search for her in the underworld, as Hercules did. As Orpheus did. And yet he was no hero. He did not seek to escape from the land of eternal rest. No. He would be buying a one-way ticket.
Something had died in him that day. Was it compassion? Was it empathy? Was it love? Without it, he lost the sparkle in his eyes that marked his naievity. Tonight was the summation of his plans. Tonight was the conclusion of days of planning. Tonight was the final chapter in his pitiful story. It was show time. His parents had invited half the neighborhood over to have a social gathering at their house. These gatherings were a regular event, but that didn't mean that he liked them.
Every gathering, he would shake hands with the guests, excuse himself, and seclude himself in his room to avoid any further unecessary social interaction. But this time, he had a plan, and if it succeeded, would change his life. Literally. The guests were socializing, like they always did, and he decided to set his plan into motion. It was no easy task to make his way to the kitchen, for there was always someone to greet, and someone to make light conversation with. Although he had been horribly shy before, he was now cold and emotionless, the perfect aristocrat.
He opened the cooking utensil cabinet, finding himself faced with a difficult choice. There were a multitude of exquisite and deadly knives for the taking. After some deliberation, he picked one of the sharper knives, a modern kitchen knife with a few touches of luxury. Bands of silver sprouted from the ruby inset in the handle, forming a makeshift grip. A ruby knife. How fitting, considering the purpose it was to serve. But now was the hard part- getting back to his room unseen, in order to conceal the knife for later use.
Knife in hand, he carefully climbed up the back staircase of his home. He had almost reached the top of the staircase when he heard his mother calling: “Honey, come down and meet our guests!” His blood ran cold. He couldn’t turn back. Not now, not with a knife in his hand. What could he do? He could continue heading upstairs and risk severe punishment from his mother, or head downstairs and risk exposing his plan. “Hurry up honey, we don’t have all day!” He sensed his mother's voice becoming accusatory. He made a split second decision and dashed up to his room as fast as he could. “Do not worry mother. I merely require a few moments to fix my disorderly apperance.” He tried to stall her.
And yet, even with victory within his grasp, he encountered another setback. The door was locked.
“Mother.”
“Yes, Honey?”
“Why have you locked my door?”
“Well honey, you always lock yourself in there whenever we have one of our wonderful gatherings, and I thought this time you could come out and meet some of our guests!”
Just great. Now what was he supposed to do? His mother was becoming impatient with him. And he was locked out of the final checkpoint of his plan. But wait! The bottom of the door didn’t touch the floor. There was a small crack under it, where he could slide the knife under. He just hoped he could get it under his bed so his mom wouldn’t wonder why there was a knife on the floor in his room. He carefully placed the knife under the crack, and kicked it as hard as he could. He heard a satisfying clunk as it bounced off the wall, presumably coming to rest under the bed.
His mission accomplished, he headed downstairs toward another evening of absolute boredom. He shook countless hands and said countless hellos. When the gathering was over, he sighed with relief. Finally, the show would go on. He betrayed no emotion, which perhaps should have aroused suspiscion, but his parents were satisfied that their son was finally "maturing". Knowing his parents liked to stay up, watching their silly sitcoms, he also stayed up. When the lights went out, he would go out too.
He jolted awake from his bed. How long had he been asleep? He only remembered closing his eyes, just for a second. He checked his alarm clock. 4:59. His parents were most likely still sleeping. Good. He slipped out of bed, and as quietly as possible, tip toed behind his bed. The knife was still there. He picked it up, and slid back into his bed. He gazed at the scarlet gem, and the silver linings wrapped around the hilt. Perhaps it was meant to be? Perhaps the knife was telling him that even death had a silver lining? He touched the knife to his finger. He suddenly felt very nervous.
There was no room for worry. There was no room for excuse. There was no room for fear. There was no room for hesitation. He swallowed, and continued on with grim determination. Raising the knife, he closed his eyes and thrust the knife towards himself.
Why was he still alive? He opened his eyes, and realized that his arms hadn’t moved. Strange. He tried again. He closed his eyes, raised the knife over his chest, and stabbed toward his heart. He was clearly still alive. How was this possible? He clearly had sent the command to end his life, yet his body was not obeying. Hm. I see that in the end, I am just a coward after all. He spurned himself for his own fear of death. What was their to gain in this life? What was there to live for? His anger reaffirmed, he steeled his conviction in preparation for another attempt.
Well, you know what they say: Third time’s the charm! This time, he kept his own eyes open, and thrust the knife deep into his chest. A single, sickening, squelch burst the silence of the night. Soon, blood seeped out of the wound, staining the white blankets with dark red. But he had not hit a vital spot. Through the haze of pain that clouded his vision and thoughts, he realized he must stab again before the adrenaline of injury faded and the true agony of his wound emerged. If he uttered a single scream, it would all be over. With a small grunt, he pulled out the bloodied tool so suited for its task. He stabbed again, this time in the stomach. He almost cried out, but managed to keep quiet by biting his tongue. Pain now resounded in his mouth, but the scream found no foothold and slipped away. Again, he stabbed himself. He felt himself losing consciousness, as blood poured out of his wounds. He smiled, almost blissfully, and knew he had succeeded.