Suicide Season

The hand on the clock stopped at exactly 11:59. The irony almost made Allie laugh. The day was forever frozen in time. A day she wished had never come. She stared at the broken clock, wishing it would start up again by some miracle and erase her pain. The days turned into nights as her cold, empty heart ached for his warm embrace.

Her feet padded against the cool wooden floor. She hated wood flooring. She hated being barefoot, but would occasionally walk threw the house without socks on. She wanted carpet, a nice royal blue to mesh with the pale blue walls. But he wanted wooden flooring, and she could never say no to him.

There was knocking on the door, someone trying to check in on her. But she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. All her friends were his friends too; they had been best friends since primary school when she moved from America to get away from her mother.

She opened the door to reveal Matt Nicholls. She stood aside and let him into the cold flat. She hadn’t bothered to put the heat on, she never did. He preferred it to be cold, even though she hated it. He always said it was so he could snuggle with her and keep her warm. To have a reason just to be near her.

“Allie, it’s been four months. I know it’s been hard, but you should start to try and move on. The day you lost him, we all slowly lost you too, because when he died he took a part of you.”

Her eyes welled with tears at the thought. It was so sudden, no time for farewells or chances for goodbyes. No one even knew he was depressed. He was so loud and full of life. And love. He was so full of love, for Allie. He had been in love with her since they met all those years ago, and everyone knew. And when she finally said yes to his pleas to be his, he was so obviously the happiest he had ever been.

“Death is only a chapter, Allie.”

She hadn’t understood why he had said that to her that day, but now she did. She understood all too well.

She made tea for the two of them and sat at the table where she had their pictures spread out. She was putting scrap books together so she wouldn’t forget. No, she could never forget him.

Matt didn’t say a word as he saw her slowly but surely start to cry, and become the empty wreck they now knew. No one understood why he did it. A gun to the temple in the guest bedroom, the door is now forever locked.

“Do you want to go to the cemetery?” he asked knowing her answer before it was spoken.

A soft “yes” escaped her trembling lips.

He kept stealing glances at the empty shell that was his friend the whole ride. He wanted to cry for her. Her skin paled from the lack of sun, her eyes sunken and weary from lack of sleep. Her lips, they looked dead. Her voice cracked from lack of use.

He left her alone to go to the tombstone for a few moments.

As soon as she approached it she fell to her knees, tears lining her sky blue eyes.

“Why did you leave me, Oliver? Why did you have to go? I love you, I always will, but you’re not here anymore. I don’t want to be here either.”

She started sobbing loudly as Matt approached her.

“Allie, if only sorrow could build a staircase, or tears could show the way I would climb my way to Heaven, and bring him home again. I would do anything to bring him back to you, because if you got him back, I would get back the friend that I once knew.”

The cold November wind blew past them, and she swore she could hear his voice.

Once back to her flat, she went to the kitchen and grabbed her sleeping pills from the counter. She took them into the bedroom, wanting to sleep the day away. She took a handful and a bottle of whiskey from the dresser, and downed them both.

The found her body the next day with a simple not next to her.

This is suicide Season.