The Beginning of the End

XI.

I nearly choked on my saliva. "I'm sorry. Did you just say..."

"Yes, JT. What's the big deal?" she asked. When she said that, Heather walked in, clearly coming out from the bathroom. She almost seemed shocked seeing me there, especially since she remembered what happened the last time we spoke.

"Hey, uh, JT," she coughed out, planting a kiss on Dinah's forehead and lacing her fingers into hers. Heather took a seat and laid her head on her girlfriend's shoulders.

"So you guys are... a thing now?" I asked, not wanting to sound offensive but in need of knowing what the hell was going on.

"Obviously. Florence wasn't wrong when she called us the lesbian lovers for always spending time with each other. It came true, I guess, and she won't be able to see any of it happening. I mean, not that you would care, JT. After all, you obviously wouldn't care about our deceased friend anymore. You even said it before, didn't you? That one day in January, and—" Heather started, tears building up in her eyes similar to Dinah's.

"Enough, Heather. JT, it's been getting better. I'm finishing up some therapy for some time before going on some more medication. Depression. Losing Heather and Florence took a toll on me, and I guess this is a pretty great medical hotspot. The counselors know their places," Dinah explained. Letting out a sigh, she threw a glance to the floor before staring into Heather's eyes.

"She's great, you know. Heather. A person I support a fuckload, and I couldn't have asked for anyone better," she said, leaning over to plant a kiss on her lips.

I actually smiled for the first time in a long time that day.

°°°

Timothy visited my house two days later.

I had started taking my medication that day, my body clearly worried at the thought of what would happen if I took them. Would my throat close up? My intestines shrivel up and disintegrate into nothing? My body just fall over until I wouldn't be able to get up?

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Desperate to know who it was (with me thinking it was my mom and sister home from the mall), I walked over to see a distraught Timothy through the peephole.

I was shocked and filled with rage and pity, but I nonetheless opened the door to see what would happen.

"Timothy?" I found myself asking him. "What's wrong? Are you—"

He wrapped me in a hug before I could finish what I had to say. 

"I can't, JT. The thought of it won't leave my brain and I'm so scared, JT. I'm so scared."

When he said that, I was pretty much terrified. I had no idea why he was here and what he had been planning to do, but from books I've read and movies I watched, I could pretty much figure it out.

"Suicide?"

The word had always been a touchy subject with me. It was almost like a taboo, and I tried to refrain from discussing it as much as possible with other people. I much rather would have thought about it to myself where I could have thought about whatever I wanted and not have received any criticism about it.

"Hell yeah," he sniffed into my shoulder, arms constricting my neck so that I could barely breathe. I tapped him to call off our hug.

"Sit, I guess," I stated. "Do you need anything? I have water, lemonade, tea, juice, soda..."

"Um, I guess water," he called back.

I nodded (despite him not being able to see it), grabbed a cup, and brought it to the fridge so that it could dispense water. Seeing it almost full, I walked back to the kitchen.

"Timothy... I mean, like, why are you here? It's not that I don't want to help you or anything, but I just want—" I started.

The chair was empty and the front door was wide open.

He was gone.

°°°

When I walked into school the next day, I saw Timothy's dead body sprawled across the bathroom floor. It was in the one that no one barely used because the lights didn't work and it smelled like shit. He probably chose it so no one would interrupt him and so that it would mask the stench of his dead body.

Who knows how long he was in there. The school always opened at 6 in the morning, so it was likely he snuck in to carry on with his plan smoothly. 

When I first saw his pale skin and foamy mouth, I nearly screeched. But what I saw next to him made me scream indefinitely, and people soon crowded around the bathroom door again.

In his hand was clutched a liquor bottle, at least a liter,  drained of every drop. Next to his head was an empty medicine container.

Empty medicine container.

If I couldn't be dumber, I picked it up not knowing it was mine. Then, the thoughts rushed back to me. I recalled him leaving abruptly while I had gone into the kitchen to get him a drink. I hadn't noticed that he had stolen the medicine when he had gone, and I'm guessing that its presence made me feel so much more relieved. So much calmer.

Sure enough, the damp label read my name, the medicine's name, and the instructions. I let out a sigh before repeatedly gasping for air. I slumped to the floor, clutching at Timothy's leg thinking it would support me.

The thought of it won't leave my brain, and I'm so scared.

Suicide?

No shit, JT.

You've let another friend die just like that.

Drug and medicine intoxication or whatever the hell you call it.

You let it happen.

Nice fucking job.

I fell over onto the cold, tiled floor while a horde of students filed in. I passed out to the sound of screams and cries.

"Another one!"

"Another one's down!"