Bethany died in her best friends arms. Mark remembered every detail, the way her mouth fell slack, the way her eyes were full of relief and hopelessness, his full of shock and tears. His disbelief overwhelming him instantly while he literally felt the life slip from her body, she grew more limp by the second. Her breathing slowed and eventually stopped. The worst part was he had to shut her eyes because she died staring at him, her mouth smirking for this is what she wanted to feel nothing, to see nothing, to need nothing, to be nothing. nothing but another teen suicide story.
How had he not noticed the signs? Maybe because there weren't any. Mark knew that Bethany was great at hiding her emotions, but never suspected she was hiding anything from him, she never had too. Mark was astounded, painfully astounded. She did this and he hadn't seen it coming, he hadn't seen anything coming. How was he expected to deal with the fact that his best friend in the world had died in his arms? Taking her own life, and his along with it. He spent weeks holed up in his room with the light off. Sitting on his couch for days, not moving a muscle, hardly blinking, or breathing, never eating. His mother pleading behind the locked door for him to emerge from his room and eat something, anything. She even cooked his favorite foods every night, making sure the smells went up the stairs and flowed into his room trying with great persistence to flicker a grains worth of interest in his blood shot eyes but he was empty, nothing could fill the void within him. Mark was simply drowning, drowning into himself.
Weeks went by Mark lived them in a haze, after Bethany's funeral Mark's mother sent him back to school but everywhere he went Bethany lingered, at least her memory did. His memories were so strong that he thought she was actually standing at their lockers. But when he looked next to him she wasn't there, her face was there. Other students had made some sort of a shrine on her locker with her picture surrounded by flowers and notes as if she were able to walk up and read them. This filled Mark with a hot anger, none of these people really knew Bethany because if they had they would know why this shrine of sorts was all wrong for her. She hated roses, her favorite flower was daisies, even worse the flowers were fake. But worst of all was the picture they used, it was her school picture, she hated that picture with a passion that could make great scientists stand in awe at it's level of intensity, expanding their knowledge on how much anger it took to kill a person.
Thinking these thoughts suddenly brought everything back. Bethany was gone, Bethany was dead. Never again would he see her face twist in anger as she ripped up yet another replacement school photo her mother ordered despite her protests and what else was mark to do but lose it. Shrieking angrily at the top of his lungs he tore ferociously at the ribbons and bows and this and that until all that was left was her school picture, which he tore into many pieces and burned those pieces, the flame lasting a mere 20 seconds, all while passers by stared in awe. He began pounding angrily on her locker as he continued to scream, no words forming, just his voice filled the corridor stopping every single conversation, freezing every movement as if the world had literally stopped spinning. He threw down his backpack and ran as fast as the wind out the door.
Mark ran, his sneakers slapping the pavement, the rain pounding on his back and soaked his black hair, all the way to Bethany's house. He burst threw the front door and called out to her through his sobs, expecting an answer. "Bethany!" he shouted as he raced up the stairs to her room. He flings open her door, revealing her empty room. He begins to hyperventilate, clutching his knees to his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He sat in the very same place that he held Bethany the night she died, the night they both died. There they found him on the floor fast asleep, clutching her favorite sweater for dear life. He awoke and saw Bethany's pale lifeless face inches from his own, Mark screamed and jumped back, slamming his head into her dresser, gasping desperately for air, seconds later she disappeared. The only thing left of her a small bloodstain on the carpet, it was nothing compared to the stain she had left on his soul.
The screen door creaks and slams behind him, he winces at the noise, hoping not to wake his parents but he didn't need to worry much since his mother was already awake. He could tell she had been worried, she'd been like that since Bethany died as if she expected him to jump off a bridge. ''Where were you? Explain your self'' His mother demanded with just enough urgency to set him off. ''I was at Bethany's, OK!" he responds, a little too loudly, and just like that his mother tenses up and tightens her grip on a scolding hot cup of tea. "Oh... well there's tea in the kitchen, drink some and get to bed" she says as she rushes to disappear into her room, her face as pale as a cloud. Mark was so sick of it, his mother was literally turned to a ghost at the sound of Bethany's name. She seemed to prefer to act as if Bethany never existed, that was what he had to do, anything to keep Bethany alive.
When he finally had the courage to go back to school the next week, he was filled with dread. All those people watching him as if he were a ticking time bomb ready to explode, and in a way he was. As he got out of the car he heard his mother whisper to his father "if only Bethany were here, she'd know how to handle him." Mark slams the door as forcefully as possible, making both of his parents jump. "Well she's not now is she mother!" he erupts viciously, his mother rests her head on the steering wheel and breathes deeply, calming exhaling while saying her last three words. "Good bye Mark" she says without lifting her head, with pain on her face. ''Good Byes right I'M not coming home" Mark shouts as he stomps off to his first class.
The final bell rings and Mark ducks out of the nearest exit, it took him all day to work up the courage to go to the only place his parents didn't know anything about, Fort Charlie. He hadn't been there in 3 years but he remembered vividly the last time he was. School was about to start so he and Bethany ventured threw the woods to Fort Charlie so they could go swimming in the lake near by, it was their most sacred place, hidden from the world. That was their place, it held all their secrets, memories, it held the very essence of their friendship inside the branches it stood on.
(Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter.) He awoke to the sound of rain hitting the roof and leaves around the fort. The second his eyes opened he was flooded with memories. He saw eight year old versions of them hanging drawings on the fort walls, he saw six year old versions of them reading stories on the rug. He saw himself closing the door with a string attached, yanking out a five year old Bethany's loose tooth, he saw in front of him his whole childhood, never a moment without her. He would never have a moment with her again. ''I'm sorry Bethany, I'm so so sorry" Mark chokes out through his tears, walking out the door into the rain, he doesn't look back inside.
Days passed and no one had seen Mark. People searched and searched, on day six they found the fort, on day six they found the body, swinging silently in the wind just below the fort door. He made sure to close his eyes so nobody else had to. Mark was done drowning, he had finally filled the void within himself.
THE END