Suicide

Sci fi/Fantasy image by

Caitirin

He slowly returned to the place he had come to call home. His head hung low and his shoulders hunched as he held the few schoolbooks beneath one arm. He pushed open the small door he always used to come inside. The front door being far too ornate and formal a way to enter the palatial mansion which continued to amaze him with all its rich opulence. The house was almost silent. He looked around with a bleak expression on his face as he stepped through the door closing it behind him. He looked around, but there was no one there at all. He sighed and made his way through the long hallways with their high vaulted ceilings and the embroidered tapestries on the walls. He dragged his feet, wishing someone were there. He felt so alone. He could feel a few tears stinging at his eyes. He sighed and finally made his way to the door to his room. He pushed open the door and dropped his books on the floor and made his way to the window. It had started to rain, the droplets hammered at the window like the drumming of a musician possessed by malevolent spirits. Tristan pulled off his coat and dropped it to the floor as well as he climbed into the window seat and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. He could feel the violent tempo of the rain through the glass and he closed his eyes. Thier taunts and jeers had really hurt. He felt like his heart was bleeding. He just wanted it to go away. Its not fair… Now they all hate me… He wiped angrily at the tears now on his cheeks. Well its no wonder they found out… you act like such a child… im just no good at anything… why should I even bother to try. I just screw up everything I touch. I hate that place… I have no one here to talk to… no one understands… so alone… its cold in here. Tristan shivered… but the room was not cold. He stared blankly out the window at the slate grey sky and the dark clouds which shrouded it. Fitting… it should be grey and dreary for me… why do I deserve anything nicer… just a slave… they probably just took me in out of pity… like a stray dog… im just a burden here… no good for anything… He sighed and swiped at the tears again with the sleeve of his shirt. He stared at the damp spots on the fabric and watched as they were soon accompanied by more such spots. He hated himself for crying. Grow up… such a baby… useless… he remembered the words of the others. Just a slave… the laughter… the upturned noses… no one would speak to him. Shunned everywhere he turned. He pressed his forehead back against the glass as his temples throbbed… a headache beginning just from thinking about it. He had these headaches often. Quite suddenly the storm picked up and the rain began to pound down more loudly and the wind picked up as well. Tristan looked up at it and frowned. It seemed to match his emotion. He stood before the window staring out at the black sky. He clenched his fists as the storm began to grow in strength. It was deathly still inside the house while outside the elements raged against one another as if locked in a struggle of deadly combat. Tristan could feel his hurt welling up inside himself as it he might burst. A thousand words rushed through his mind, a thousand taunts, a thousand debasements, a thousand things he wished he had never heard. Suddenly he felt the weight of it all bearing down upon him, like a physical burden on his slight shoulders. He could not bear this… he wasn’t strong enough… it was too much. Tristan was jolted out of his thoughts as he heard the sound of his own voice… he was screaming. It rang out through the room and as Tristan struggled to bring himself under control a large branch snapped outside the window and came crashing through the window. The bright sound of glass shattering and wood cracking filled the room and drowned out Tristan’s scream. He could feel the shattered glass falling over him and instinctively he raised his arms to cover his face. He fell backwards with the sudden shock and the rush of wind which filled the room. The wind howled through the broken window and tore at the curtains. Like a hungry beast the wind whipped through the room. It flipped the books open and soaked the pages. It knocked things on the dresser to the floor, breaking the bottles and mirror as it raged throughout the room. Tristan knelt in the middle of the floor breathing heavily. Some of the glass had cut the fabric of his shirt and pants. He dripped blood from the myriad of tiny slices which the glass has inflicted as it fell. He sat back on his heels. The rain now poured through the open window and began to soak him. His hair stuck to the sides on his face and now you could not tell that tears still fell. His throat was raw from the scream and he felt shaken and weak. In one hand he held a large piece of glass from the window. He lifted it to the faint light in the room and watched it with a gruesome fascination as it cut the gentle skin of his palms, a trickle of blood dripped down from his hand and down his arm. He simply stared at it, numb, cold. He did not understand why he couldn’t seem to feel anything. He looked at the shattered window and the tree limb hanging half in and half out of it. He lifted the glass shard again and watched as the light bent through it… over its sharp cutting edge… no pain… He turned the glass in his hand… cutting his fingers anew. The he took the glass to his wrist… He slashed. Blood began to pour from the wound. He repeated this process with his other wrist. It doesn’t hurt… can’t hurt me now… He sighed almost contentedly. Its done… no more… He dropped the glass as he felt himself weakening. His clothes were now stained crimson red with the blood from his wrists. He could feel a slight tightening in his chest. But it didn’t matter anymore… he was going… where no one could hurt him anymore. He felt dizzy and the room seemed to swim before his eyes. No pain… He fell backwards onto the floor. He looked down at the red seeping into the carpet and suddenly wondered where it was coming from. He lays down looking at the ceiling and slipping closer and closer to a sleep. The room began to grow dark and he sighed. Wish I could have seen my brother one more time… Then he felt the darkness reach out to envelop him. He was dimly aware of a sound at the door and he could feel light on his face. Someone was shouting and he could tell they were distraught. But it didn’t matter anymore… it was dark here… but warm and somehow strangely comforting. And then… nothing. ((Heh well if you actually read all that I am impressed! Its two whole pages of the story that I am writing. Tristan is in a very fragile state of mind and something happens to him and he sinks deep into depression and decides that he would rather not go on any longer and he tries to kill himself. This picture is set as a flashback later in his life where he is looking at the scars.))


Published More than a year ago

Category Fantasy



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