Chapter 17

A boy stands on a chair, trying to keep his balance. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and steps off.

SNAP

The rope breaks, sending him falling onto the ground. He coughs, loosening the noose around his neck. He looks up at the other half of the frayed rope, still tied to the ceiling fan. The boy sighs, “Cheap fuckin’ rope.” He hears the front door open. Shit, she’s home already? He quickly stands up, climbs up on the chair, unties the remaining rope from the fan, gets down, then puts the chair back where it belongs. He checks himself in the mirror to make sure everything looks normal. Noticing a rope mark around his neck, he puts a hoodie on to cover up. He then leaves his bedroom, going out to see his mother.

The next day the boy stands on the chair, tying another rope to the ceiling fan. He bought a thicker rope this time. It was more expensive, but he won’t be needing the money anymore anyway. This time it’ll hold. He tightens the rope around his neck, closes his eyes, and steps off the chair.

CRASH

The boy’s weight pulls the fan off the ceiling, smashing onto the floor alongside him.

The boy sighs, “Fuck, seriously?” He stands up, loosens the noose, then picks up the fan. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” He hides it in his closet, hoping no one notices. He then hears the front door open, so he throws on his hoodie and goes out to greet his mother.

Day three. The boy is no longer in his room. He’s in his basement, tying the rope to a metal support beam on the ceiling.

He tugs it tight. “You better not fuckin’ break on me!” He wraps the noose around his neck, feeling it chafe against his already tender skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Third time’s the charm,” then steps off the chair.

His neck catches the weight of his body, jerking it sideways. It hurts, but not as bad as the feeling of suffocation. As his body sways, his arms and legs involuntarily spam. It feels like his throat is being crushed. As painful as it is, the boy thinks to himself. I did it. I finally did something right.

The pride he feels from accomplishing something that he set his mind to is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. It gives him a renewed sensation of happiness. That split second feeling makes him no longer want to die. He opens his eyes, looking for the chair. He grabs the rope around his neck, trying to reach the chair with his feet. It’s right fuckin’ there… Already too late, his grip loosens as his legs flop down, dangling below his body. His body spasms once more as his eyes begin to close. The last thing he hears is the front door open. Fuck, she’s home already? The boy realizes that his mother is going to be the one to find him. Why didn’t I realize that sooner? I can’t do that to her. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

And he never did.