Adolescent Suicide

Mercy was just pulling on her jacket when Gerard returned from wherever it was that he had gone. He paused in the doorway, his dark hazel eyes locked on her as she struggled to get one of her arms through a hole. Staring at him, she could see immense pain and sadness mixed in with fear. He reached up and brushed some short black strands of hair from his face as he appraised her.

“Where are you going?” he finally asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of pants that were way too tight.

She shrugged as her arm found the hole and she slid it in before zipping it up halfway, leaving part of her tank top peeking through. She needed to get out. She just really needed to leave this god forsaken hotel room. She was tired of being cramped in there, under everyone’s supervision. She had no privacy, no space. It was driving her crazy. Mercy wanted to go somewhere by herself, where she could think without having someone breath down her fucking neck.

“I’m going down to the bar and getting something to eat,” she replied nonchalantly as she grabbed her purse before looking around for her hotel key.

“I’ll go with you,” Gerard replied, thrusting the small card at her.

Mercy arched a brow as she took it from him. She wanted to ask why he had it, but figured that would be best left unsaid. She really didn’t want to think about him going to talk to Frank. It killed her not being able to speak to her boyfriend, but it was worse knowing that Gerard probably just got done talking to him, something she hadn’t been able to do since that morning, when he told her he needed to think.

“No, that’s okay. I need some time alone,” she said, shaking her head.

Gerard looked at her hesitantly, as if wanting to argue with her about it. However, he didn’t do that. Instead, he merely nodded and stepped around her, heading towards the couch. He paused halfway and looked over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Be careful,” he said softly.

She nodded and returned the small smile before heading out of the hotel room. As she walked along the carpeted hallways, she thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. Her blue eyes stayed on her feet as they moved, one in front of the other. From behind doors, she could hear televisions blaring, people talking. Mercy bit at her bottom lip as she reached the elevator, reaching a hand out to press the down button. It lit up, signaling that the metal box was on it’s way.

Shit, she felt like the walking dead. Her emotions were out of wack, her thoughts were a whirlwind. She knew that she deserved to feel like this though. She knew she had brought it upon herself. She wouldn’t be surprised if she lost the one person she loved for her stupidity. Even though it had been a joke, there was meaning behind it. Just like everything else in life, it could mean something else. In this case, it meant that she didn’t have his back. It meant that when push came to shove, she wasn’t going to be there for him. At least, that’s what it seemed like. She wanted to think otherwise. Mercy wanted to believe that she would never betray him like that, but hadn’t she just done so?

The elevator dinged, signaling it’s arrival. The metal doors slid open with a whooshing noise and she stepped inside, pressing the ground level button when she turned. Mercy moved to the far wall once the doors slid back close to lean against the cold, golden tiles. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes. She just wished that she had gone about things so much differently. She should’ve listened to her gut when it told her to tell Mikey to find someone else to do his prank with. Fuck, she was so stupid.

Her eyes came open as the elevator dinged once again. Mercy stood straight, waiting for the doors to open. They did so, sliding almost gracefully on the metal railing. She stepped out into the main lobby, looking around. People were milling around, sitting in the plush tan chairs that were situated around fake palm trees. The hotel personal were hard at work behind the desk, talking animatedly in Greek to the people who were standing in front of them, waving their hands around in frustration. Bell hops were pushing carts of expensive looking luggage over to another set of elevators on the far side of the room, trailed by their American owners who were talking in hushed voices to their cell phones.

Shaking her head slightly, she made her way across the tiled floors, her feet making slight scuffling noises that reverberated through the lobby. People stared at her jeans and tank top clad body as she moved. She knew she stuck out like a sore thumb. She usually did with her fluffed up black hair and piercings that adorned her face. Still, it didn’t bother her. It never did, but at the moment, she had other issues on her mind.

Mercy entered the bar and stood off to the side of the entrance, trying to get her eyes to adjust. She scanned her eyes around her surroundings, taking in everything. A few people were sitting in small tables made of cherry wood, their surfaces glistening in the low light of the room. Two men sat at the end of the bar made from the same color of wood, each holding a small glass of what appeared to be vodka in one hand, a cigarette in the other. A female bartender was cleaning a tall glass with a dark red cloth, a smile on her face as she sang softly with the music that emitted from hidden speakers. Bottles upon bottles of liquor lined a shelf behind her, lit from behind by bright neon blue lights.

Once she could see again, she made her way over to the bartender. She leaned against the bar and scanned the menu that hung a little off to the left. She wasn’t a big drinker. She never had been. But right now, she just wanted to drink the pain away. She wanted to lose herself, wanted to forget everything about her. Mercy wanted to get so plastered that she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone the things that had happened earlier that day.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked as she sat down her glass, her voice heavily accented to the point that Mercy had a hard time understanding her.

“Oh. Um, I’ll have a piña colada, I guess,” Mercy replied, narrowing her eyes slightly as she continued to stare at the menu. Most of the items on it she had never heard of before. But then, that wasn’t surprising either. She didn’t even know what cognac was.

Within a few minutes, her drink had been poured and mixed and was now being held out towards her by the smiling bartender. Mercy took it with a nod and brought it to her lips, quickly downing half of it as she reached her other hand into her pocket to pull out some cash, but paused, remembering who it was she was there with. The cool liquid rushed down her throat, then burned her stomach as it settled, making her wince as she pulled the glass away. Mercy gave the woman her name, and told her to put it on a tab. She was going to be drinking for awhile.

After getting a nod from the bartender, letting her know that she was good to go, Mercy turned and went to sit at one of the tables in the dimly lit corner of the room. She leaned back in the wooden chair and propped her feet up in the other one across from her, nursing her drink at her chest. She let herself relax, let herself go. Mercy lost herself in the alcohol, lost herself in the dizzying effect it had on her.

Within half an hour, she had drank four of the mixed drinks. She was feeling quite good at the moment, and even had a smile gracing her round features. Her thoughts were no longer on Frank. They were on the bartender, who at the moment was mixing her fifth drink. A giggle escaped Mercy for no apparent reason, followed by a small hiccough. She giggled again, bringing a hand up over her mouth as she turned back towards the front, back towards the rear wall.

It wasn’t long before out of the corner of her eyes, she saw her glass being handed to her over her shoulder. She took it with a giggle, her vision blurry as she tried to concentrate on keeping it in her hands.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” a voice said quietly by her ear, the warm air a deep contrast against the air conditioned coolness of the bar.

That wasn’t the bartender. The voice was way too deep, way too masculine. It was oddly familiar, chilling her to the very core of her body. The glass slid from her fingers as she turned to face the person, hitting the carpet with a thud, the clear liquid spilling out everywhere. Her blue eyes came into contact with a set of steely grey ones and her jaw dropped. She tried to back away from him, but she remembered she was sitting. A smile graced the man’s face, a sick, sadistic smile, one that had haunted her dreams for months and months.

The Faithless.