Dying Is Your Latest Fashion

I stared blankly down at the newspaper heading. YET ANOTHER TEEN TAKES OWN LIFE. The article had already been splattered with so many tears; the actual article was hard to read.

You could only pick out a few small words; however the only ones that I could read were ‘Lucas Bradey’, the name of my boyfriend, the 7th person in our town to have committed suicide in the past 2 months. I had been blaming myself ever since the news hit the media, they had been blaming me, and I guess that was what had finally gotten to me.
I wouldn’t speak to anyone, my sister Aralia was only 14, due to start the High School in which I attended, I didn’t want her to go through anything, and I knew that if I spoke to her I would begin to unload my suicidal feelings onto her as well.
That one word; suicidal. It summed me up exactly at this moment in time.
Someone knocked on my permanently closed, locked and barricaded door. The prison in which I had encased myself in for the past 8 days. The 8 days that my heart had fragmented so much, I began to believe that it was actually broken.

“Eloria?” Aralia’s soft voice called through the door. “Eloria, are you okay?”
Stupid question really, I thought as I looked up at my mirror, finally taking my head off of my desk, to which it had accustomed to after I had continuously rest my head on it after looking, even glancing at the newspaper article.
I should probably get rid of it; I know that I should get rid of it. But something keeps holding me back, banning me from removing it. Maybe it’s because of the picture that the paper bears, a picture that I took in fact, maybe it’s because of the picture of his suicide note, the one telling me how much he loved me, and that he was sorry, he regretted it, regretted leaving me, he just...just had to. Had to take his life, to make him happy. Or maybe it was the memories of everything that we had been through that held me back, not allowing me to discard them just yet. Even though my room had literally turned into a shrine to Lucas in the past few days, my walls were tattooed with his pictures, the lyrics to song he had written me, everything that we had shared...even a lonely cinema ticket that one time he had told me that he loved me for the first time. I can’t even remember what the film was; I can’t bear to turn the ticket over from his messy handwriting.

Lori, I wanted you to have proof, in writing, of how much I love you. I would sail the world five times over to find you if you were lost, fly to Pluto if you were there. Anything it would take to see you, save you and I would be there in an instant. I love you, Lori, I really do. And I don’t care how cheesy this sounds, I love you and that’s all that will ever matter to me. Lucas.
Tears filled my eyes as they scanned the note for the hundredth time this hour, I would never forget his timid expression as he passed me the note as we sat watching the film; I had been aware of his scribblings on the ticket, but I had just assumed that inspiration had hit him for a new song. ‘We’ll be famous, make it, we will. And you’ll follow in our footsteps’ he had told me of his band one hundred times over ‘Even if I have to drag you along against your will’
I choked out a laugh, and immediately wished I could erase it.
I had banned myself from laughing at this time, a time of great depression. The Great Depression in my life, the biggest one I had seen in my 17 years on this earth. I had witnessed many sad things, but none of them had ever effected me like this had. This had cut me open, allowing blood to squirt out all over my four walls, the ones that kept me trapped in here, trapped in this world.
But, I couldn’t follow in Lucas’ footsteps; no matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I wanted to see him again, hug him...kiss him one last time. I couldn’t leave Aralia here alone, with no one else to turn to. And I couldn’t break my promise to Lucas. The one I had sworn to him the last time I had seen him.
“Lori, will you promise me something?” he had asked me. Repeatedly, in whispers. He had seemed catatonic, staring blankly out over the waves crashing up onto the rocks. They had been committing their suicide too, just as 6 others had. 7 others had, I had to remind myself, Lucas was gone now, he was gone, and he wasn’t about to return.
“Yeah, what?” I had replied, not realising how depressed he had looked, and for me to not take him seriously...I wanted to kill myself for that.
“Well...can you promise me, and I know this will sound weird, but can you promise me...Never commit suicide, no matter how great the temptation will seem, promise me, promise yourself that you won’t do it, not now, not ever. Please, promise me, Eloria...Lori, please.” He had begged me, desperation in his voice, lacing over every syllable.
“Of course, I will, Lucas.” I had said to him
“Promise me though!”
“Ipromise you, Lucas Bradey, that I, Eloria ‘Lori’ Maidenstone, will not, not ever, commit suicide, no matter how great the temptation may seem sometimes.” I had repeated, half sarcastically. He had looked at me with relief and sighed, seeming grateful, thankful, relieved. I didn’t know why that promise had been so important to him, now I did I guess.
He had been planning on committing suicide, and he didn’t want me too. I thought that this was kind of hypocritical, doing it yourself but not allowing someone else too. Especially when you know that that someone would never ever break a promise, no matter how much it hurt them in not doing so.
That someone being me, of course.

“Lori? Please...” Aralia asked again, I had actually forgotten that she was stood outside my door. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even fully seen what my reflection was.
My eyes had been washed of any eyeliner, it instead carving lines into my cheeks; my eyes themselves were red and puffy, my unusual pale lavender irises being consumed by the red veins of my eyes. My hair looked wet and oily, due to lack of washing in the past week, all the volume had been lost and instead the raven black curls clutched to my face, as if wishing that my tears would wash away all of the dirt from them, cleanse them from their pain and misery.

I wanted to be cleansed from my pain and misery. Maybe this was the reason that I stood up and removed the chair from behind me door, unwedging it from the lock before twisting the key that stood- almost cemented into the keyhole it hadn’t been moved in so long- before finally clicking back the lock and allowing the door to swing open, with a little difficulty, for that too hadn’t been opened in 8 whole days. 8 very long, emotionless days.
My little sister stood before me, her dark cherry red hair was pulled back off her face and her eyeliner told me that she had also been crying.
“What is it, Aralia?” The words came out harsher than I had intended.
She didn’t seem too offended by my tone of voice, for she shuffled into my room, albeit warily. She looked behind at me before perching on the end of my bed, and I noticed her trying to not look at any of my walls, but instead preferring to look intently at her mud covered converse.
“Are you okay?” she repeated
I didn’t respond as I sat next to her on the end of my bed.
I just stared avidly the wall opposite me, my heart yearning to see him one more time, hug him, kiss him, to join him. Even though I had promised not to, I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of joining him, just to make me happy again.

Would he want me to be unhappy?
To feel like death all of the time?
Is that what he had wanted?

More tears began to spill as I lay back on my bed and quietly cried myself to sleep, Aralia looking at me, worry clear in her eyes.
“Goodnight, Lori” I heard her whisper as I escaped into my dreams, all of which I was sure would contain Lucas.