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Newt released his pen and it dropped to the floor. He didn't realize he was crying until he saw a tear dropping on his paper. His paper. The first thing Newt had written in a long time. The thing is, it wasn't just anything he'd written.
It was a note.
And the only reason why he'd felt the need to write the stupid note was because he wanted people to understand. He wanted people to understand how sick and tired he was of it all. He was sick of the lies, sick of the pain, sick of the prison other people called the mind. He was sick of the truth as well, but only because he had to bear it alone.
Newt was going to hell. He realized that. He just didn't care. Because whatever hell had in store for him, it couldn't be worse than staying alive.
Yesterday, Newt had stayed up all night wondering how the statement 'to see your life flash before your eyes.' would be like. He hoped it was pleasant.
Seeing your life flash before your eyes was something that had always interested him. It was intriguing. Maybe it'd like a movie, building and building and building up the tension and then!
The climax.
The end.
Now though, as he stared at his note, he realized with a twinge of disappointment that he was already seeing his life flash by. Newt was reliving memories, craving dreams that never came true and loving things he never allowed himself.
Loving things such as the slow movement of his tears, like raindrops sliding down a window on a rainy afternoon. Loving the way his hands shook, as if they'd gotten a life of their own and saw the end of it. Loving the glow of the sun, warming his skin in a way that only a lover could. And if he was being honest, the sun did remind him of Thomas.
It reminded him of a particular day in winter, when they were both cold and wet, snow stuck in their hair. The sun reminded him of that moment just after, when Thomas pulled Newt close in an embrace that made him feel again.
Maybe that's why it shone today: To remind him of all the good times. Maybe the world hoped and prayed and dreamed that Newt would see reason, that Newt would feel that love again, just like he did all those months ago.
But he didn't. He couldn't. If he started feeling that love again then he'd never go trough with what he intended to do all along.
Newt should've died a long time ago.
He should've died when he was 7 and almost drowned in that lake. He should've died when he was nine and got that knife pointed at his throat by his mother. He should've died when he was thirteen and had the bus accident. And yet, he hadn't. His friends said it was fate. They said he was lucky. Truth is, he was neither. Newt was just an incredibly determined individual. It was always his wish to die at his own hand. It was always his wish to be able to say a proper goodbye.
And Newt was tired of waiting for the end anyway. The end was too unpredictable. So instead of collapsing and waiting for the inevitable death, he had decided to take the matter into his own hands.
The blond was tired of a lot of things.
He was tired of being the one with the bad grades. Tired of being "just a gay loser". Tired of trying to get noticed by parents who only saw each other as the enemies they were. Tired of lying and calling his house a home. Tired of the fights. Tired of hiding his pain with humor. Tired of everything.
Newt had had enough. His final battle was here and this time, they wouldn't win. This time, Newt had made sure he would.
And yeah, he would miss Thomas. Just as much as he knew Thomas would miss him, after the anger faded away at least. But Newt was certain that Thomas was the only one in the whole world who would understand just why he had done it. Because Thomas knew what it was like to live and function inside the grey.
The two were so much alike, but so different when it came to one thing:
Being strong.
Thomas was so much stronger than Newt could ever be. So much more positive and loving. He saw all the good things Newt had given up on a long time ago.
Thomas had feared that in Newt. He had feared he was going to end up like that as well: "Completely numb to pain. Unable to feel the signs telling you that you're still alive."
He had told Newt that one night, in between kisses, when they were both incapable of finding sleep.
Mind you, Thomas loved Newt. More than anything else in the world and the blond knew that. But sometimes, love wasn't enough. He just wished that he'd known that before Thomas fell in love with him. But there was nothing he could do. Not anymore. The note was written, the pen was dropped, the story was told, the life was lived and soon, the final breath would come.
Right now though, Newt was content with staying alive just a little bit longer. Perhaps he was subconsciously wishing someone would come bursting trough his door to put an end to all this madness.
Sadly, Newt's consciousness was smarter than that. He'd started planning this a long time ago and he knew no one would come by to check on him today.
He picked up the note tenderly and read trough it one last time.
Dear you,
If you're reading this then that means you found me. I can't tell you how much I'm sorry for that. Chances are you'll never understand why I would do such a horrific thing, and it's not easy to explain, but I'll do my best with this letter.
For you to understand is for you to know the whole story. So let's start from the beginning:
You see, I wasn't always this cold. This 'heartless'.
Especially not about death.
I used to be scared of death, used to believe she was always looming over my shoulder, watching my every move. Waiting til I showed weakness so she could finally strike.
Now though, I merely see death as an escape. A n escape from this evil, evil world.
I think I started realizing I wouldn't make it at a pretty young age.
In school, I was always the quiet and shy one. When I went to middle school and had little to no friends, I knew I had to step up my game.
So in high school, I became the funny and bubbly guy. And it worked. I finally got some friends. I'm still suprised even now, when I look back on it. Everything I did in high school was an act of course, but soon enough I started to believe my own lies. I thought I was having fun, smoking, drinking, partying,...
Then reality hit once again, when my longest and best friend Alby was murdered. No. Saying he was just a friend is a lie. He was like a brother. He was my safe haven from the personal hell I had created.
The worst part is that there wasn't even a reason for his murder. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
And I? I fell down a black hole. I didn't know what to do, suddenly I was alone again, suddenly my friend, my first real friend was stolen from me.
Naturally they found the ones responsible and locked them up but at that point, I had stopped caring. It didn't matter to me anymore. Nothing did. I just wanted my best friend back.
Numb.
It seems to be the only word I find fitting for that period in my life. I started shunning all my other friends. Needing them, but not wanting them.
I wanted to feel again but I couldn't. I had lost it all and yet the world kept on turning as if nothing had happened. I couldn't handle it. I never could.
That's when my fear of death started to fade. Instead, the thought of death enticed me. Beckoned me.
It was at that moment I attempted suicide for the first time. I didn't know what elso to do, my parents wouldn't look out for me, they were too caught up in their own misery and fights to realize that I was hurting.
It was a Saturday afternoom at 1:30pm when I jumped off the school's roof. When I stood there, on the edge, for the first time in a long while I felt something again. I felt exhilarated, knowing it would all be over soon. I took a breath, closed my eyes and jumped.
To freedom.
To release.
I should've known the school's track team held practices on Saturdays. Two boys, Minho and Thomas, were already calling the ambulance before I hit the ground.. Should I be thankful for them? Maybe. Maybe not.
My 'recovery' started after that wretched day. The doctors told me I landed wrongly on my foot and that it needed time to heal, they also told me it would never be able to heal completely and that I would have to walk around with a limp for the rest of my life. If I hadn't landed on my foot, though, I'd be dead. So I guess, in a way, that limp saved my life.
After my body healed, my mind still had to, according to the doctors at least. So they send me to therapy, where I had to talk about everything that bothered me. My parents, my interests and worst of all: my feelings. I mean, how could I? How could I talk about feelings when I didn't feel anything? How was I to explain that I was tired of being the lonely gay kid no one really noticed? No one would understand, so I couldn't really be bothered
Six weeks of therapy later and I was aloud to go back to school.
Minho and Thomas were waiting for me at the entrance.
They demanded an explanation and I felt like I owed them one. So during lunch, we sat down and I told them. Not everything, but enough. Enough for them to understand. I think it was when Thomas gently placed his hand on my arm that I realized maybe everything would be okay.
I was wrong of course, everything was still the same, only now I had Thomas to carry some of the weight with me.
Pretty soon after, I fell in love with him, and he fell in love with me, and if this were a fairy tale, we'd both live happily ever after.
But life is not a fairy tale.
And the time for goodbyes has come right now.
I hope you, the one who found this, understands a little better now.
But I also hope you don't understand. I hope you'll never know what it's like to live with the constant numb.
Either way, please don't be too angry with me.
And Thomas if you're reading this, if you're the one who found me..
I want to apologize, I'm sorry Tommy, I had to. I just couldn't do it anymore, I love you. Remember that. Please! I loved you more than I loved myself. But I'm tired of the pain, tired of the numbness.
Oh, and Thomas? I also want to thank you. If you hadn't found me that day, if you hadn't picked up the bloody phone and called that stupid ambulance I'd have never known love. You may feel like the only thing you did was pocrastinate the ending, and I can't say that would be a lie but I'm so grateful, so fucking grateful for that . You made me feel again, if only for a little while. Even so, it meant more to me than anything else in the world.
Minho, if you're the one who finds this, take care of Tommy for me. You're the only one able to. You were the best friend someone could wish for, your wittiness and sarcasm were some of the only things that got me trough the days. You taught me how to smile again. I can never thank you enough for that. Saying goodbye is never easy, I understand that a little better now, but it's necessary, especially with things like this. And I'm just glad I get a chance to do so.
Now, as we reach the end of my letter, I wish to thank those who made my life that tiny bit more bearable: Tommy, Teresa, Brenda, Minho, Fry, Winston,.
Thank you for being my friends.
Signing off..,
Newt.
Newt had started crying again, he realized. He was weak.
He picked up the gun from his bedside table and gently placed it against his head. It was over. All over. And finally the severeness of the situation was sinking in. But he wasn't going to back out. For the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid anymore. He was relieved. A strange sense of calmness absorbed him. Whispered sweet nothings in his ears.
His story was finally over.
There was nothing left to say now. He'd given up..
"I'm sorry Tommy," Newt whispered for the last time. "I'm so bloody sorry."
And with his heart falling into a black abyss, Newt pulled the trigger.