Chapter Text
Neil was dead even before his mother and father had left the room. He died when he realized it was to late. Maybe, if he had had the guts to tell his father what Mr Keating wanted him to say, he wouldn’t have had to. But he was to scared, and as his father was yelling at him. About how he doesn’t understand why Neil keeps disobeying them, and how he was going to make him leave everything behind and go to a new school for 10 more years. There was no way he could tell him now. That moment, after Neil had stood up and exclaimed how he had to tell him how he felt, he realized. That it was to late. And as he sank back down into his seat. He could feel his real self leaving this empty useless body. As his mother approached him from the back he was long gone. But maybe she would say something. Maybe she could convince him not to do it.
A last spark of life flickered inside.
“I was good. I was really good.”
Maybe, if his mother had agreed, or said she was sorry for how his father had acted, or Atleast tried to reach out. He wouldn’t have done it.
“Get some sleep.”
You can’t sleep when your already dead.
The following minutes he was in a trance. Disassociateted from the world as his body walked down the stairs. It was all so quiet. Nothing made any noise at all. The creeks in the stairs were gone, he sound of the doorknob struggling to turn, the opening of a drawer and the unwrapping of a white cloth. Inside was his final ticket. Neil wasn’t really sure if he really was there right now. Its like his body is moving on its own. This was his final resort. Surely after this his father would finally understand. Mr keating had told Neil there was no easy way to make him understand. So hard Neil couldn’t do it and he was left with this. Was this the easy way out? Would telling his father really have been better than this? Neil tried to imagine a life after military school. It wasn’t the long school years he was worried about. But in 10 more years his dream would be hopeless. There’s no way he could start acting by the time he was almost 30. Maybe this was the easy way.
Sorry Mr Keating, I didn’t have it in myself to do as you said. Forgive me for lying.
He places the pistol against his head. He hesitates. He adjusts the gun, not sure where he is meant to aim for. His finger trembles on the trigger. Is he meant to be scared? What if it hurts? What would his mother say?
Don’t people usually leave notes?
He shakingly puts away the gun and reaches for a pen and some papers.
‘For my mom.’
He stares at the curvy letters.
‘Sorry. Please be safe, be careful around father. I wish you well.’
He bites his lip.
‘Sorry, your son Neil’
Was that fine? He didn’t know what else to write.
He grabs another piece of paper.
‘For Mr John Keating.’
He deserves to know.
‘Sorry I lied. I was to scared to tell him. Now this is what I have to resort to. I’ll miss you. And your English classes.
From Neil.’
Is it to simple? Is there more to say? Should he explain all there is to it? No.
He grabs another paper.
‘For the d.p.s (Charlie, Knox, Meeks, Pitts, Cameron and Todd.)’
He freezes. No he can’t. They will just blame themselves.
‘Love you guys.
Live long
Neil.’
That’s it. It’s time to do it.
He looks back at the pistol like it at any moment will shoot by itself. Frantically he grabs one last paper.
‘For Todd’
And he starts writing.
Eventually hours have gone by.
Neil has filled both sides of the page.
It was meant to be an explanation. Why he’s doing it and how Todd should not worry and move on.
But in the end he wrote it all down. How he felt. In such detail. Neil had been biting down on his lip the entire time as his handwriting got sloppier when he kept writing faster and faster. Eventually his mouth was filled with blood from his lips.
He’s never written a love letter. Does it count as a love letter when it’s meant as a suicide note?
Neil finishes it up. As he writes the last word he exhales deeply. His breathing his fast and panicked.
His fathers words start streaming back into his sleepless mind and grabs the gun in a hurry. Without thinking he pulls the trigger before it has even reached his head.
He is pushed onto the floor by the force from the bullet. He lands hard on the cold wooden floor. His bare upper body drenched in sweat even though the whole house is freezing cold.
Did he miss? The gun has fallen out of his hands and is laying a few inches away. He tries to reach for it but is met with an overwhelming amount of pain causing his eyes to go black. He looks down on his chest and on the river of blood running down his sweaty body. The sight almost makes him back out. It makes him snap back to reality as he realizes what he has done. He can see the letter scattered across the floor from his drastic charge towards the gun. He reaches for one.
‘For Todd’
A wave of regret flows over him.
Todd.
It’s to late now. He’s dead. His eyes start tearing up as the pain from his chest starts getting worse by the second. With blood stained hands he holds the letter as he cries.
His body is weak and he can’t hold the letter anymore. His arms drop to the floor as he lay there in a pool of blood in the dark study. Crying, regretting, waiting for it to be over.
The last thing he sees before his vision goes black is the bloodstained letter next to him.
He tries to reach for it but it’s to late.