Adolescent Suicide

“W-What are you doing here?” Mercy stammered, her voice slurred from the many drinks that she had already had.

Shit. What the hell was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in jail? Shouldn’t he be under some sort of lock down? Why the hell was he here, in Greece? Mercy kept telling herself not to panic, kept telling herself that she was going to be alright. Someone would show up. Someone would save her. She would get away. Damn it, she would. The warm haziness brought on by the alcohol was washed away by the cold grip of horror. It took her a half an hour to get smashed, but only a few seconds to become sober for the most part.

He sent her a malicious smile as he moved to sit across from her, pushing her legs out of the chair, making them land with a thud on the carpet. The Faithless leaned his elbows on the wooden surface of the table, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I’ve come to see you, of course,” he said quietly, almost as if he were daring her to speak up, to cause a commotion.

She shook her head in disbelief as she gawked at him. She must be imagining things. What the hell did the bartender put in that drink to make her have hallucinations? Fuck, she really needed to get back to the hotel room. She needed to get out of this bar. She needed to find Frank and have him hold her so that she could sleep off this insane nightmare.

“No. No. This isn’t happening. It’s not,” she said, waving her hands around in front of her face as she shook her head more violently.

His smile widened. “Oh yes, it is. What? Did you seriously think that I’d still be in jail after a year?” He paused, letting out a bark of laughter. “I got out on bail. And you know what I thought?”

Mercy swallowed the lump in her throat, slowly moving her head back and forth as she waited for him to continue. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had thought that nothing was going to happen to her this tour. She had thought that she would be safe. But of course, she had been wrong. She had been so very wrong. Her worst nightmare was becoming reality, and she was losing herself to it fast.

“I thought that I should pay the girl who put me there a visit. I thought that I should make you pay for what you did to me,” he growled, his eyes hardening as they stared at her.

She heard the familiar clicking of a gun cocking and she felt her eyes begin to tear up, blurring the corners of her vision. Her hands went out to grip the edge of the table, her fingernails digging into the wood. She was pressing so hard, it felt like she might rip off her own fingernails. Her heart was racing a million miles per second as her eyes flitted around the room. No one was even looking their way, unconcerned about the fact that there was a cold-blooded killer in their midst.

“Now, here’s what I want you to do. Very calmly, I want you to stand and make your way out of the bar, through the lobby, and outside. I’ll be right behind you, so I wouldn’t try anything fucking stupid. Outside, there is a car waiting for you. We’re going for a ride, Mercy. I promise you, it’ll be unforgettable.”

She had no doubt about that. She had no doubt that what was about to happen to her was something that was going to escape her thoughts anytime soon. Shakily, she stood, her nails digging more into the wood. Little jagged lines were left behind, scarring the wood forever. A sob escaped her lips as she looked at him, her bottom lip quivering in fear. Fuck, she was so scared. She didn’t want to go with him. She didn’t want to leave the safety of the hotel. She just wished that she could start over, that she could erase the past twenty-four hours and redo it.

The man stood with her, towering over her small frame. As she turned to leave the bar, he stepped up behind her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. Mercy felt the cold of the gun pressed into her side, seeping through her jacket and tank top. It made her shiver, her whole body shaking mercilessly. Together, they moved out of the bar and across the lobby. No one seemed to give them a second glance. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see that he had a smile on his face. From a bystander’s point of view, he probably looked like her boyfriend. Fuck, did she wish he was. She wished that it was Frank leading her out of here, not him.

Outside, a nondescript black car was idly waiting at the curb. He pushed the gun deeper into her side, gesturing with his head for her to get in. She opened the door, whimpering quietly. Once she got in, she knew there was no turning back. She knew that there was nothing she could do after that. She would be lost once more to The Faithless. The wind whipped her hair around as she looked over her shoulder at the hotel, her blue eyes going upwards, searching for her hotel room, for the other boy’s room where she had just left, wishing that one of them was looking back at her. However, no face greeted her. She was alone.

Mercy folded herself into the front seat as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She furiously wiped them away, ashamed of herself for showing the man weakness. She couldn’t help it though. She was so scared, so terrified. Her breathing shortened as he slammed the door shut and moved around the car to get into the driver’s side. She thought about escaping then, but knew that she would’ve died before her body hit the warmth of the lobby.

The Faithless got in behind the wheel and put the car into gear before sliding into the small bit of traffic that adorned the street. Silently, he drove through the streets of Greece for a few minutes before coming to a stop in front of a small, dingy hotel. He parked, then got out. Her eyes scanned her surroundings as he moved around to her side of the car, trying to get a scope of places to run, places to hide. She knew it wouldn’t work though. He would find her. He would do anything to hurt her. Mercy knew that much.

The car door opened with a click and he grabbed her arm, pulling her out beside him before kicking it shut. Once again, the cold end of the gun was pressed to her side as he led her inside, up the stairs, and into a dirty room. Dust and dirt covered the floor. The bed was unmade and clothes were scattered over the dresser, the bed, and the floor. A single lamp sat in the corner on a small table next to the bed. In front of the bed was a tiny dresser adorned by an old television that probably didn’t work. Beneath a window was a round table, topped off with two wooden chairs. Mercy heard the scampering of a mouse behind the bed, making her grimace in disgust.

“Sit,” he commanded, shoving her towards the table.

She stumbled, but kept her footing as she crossed the repulsive room. Mercy shakily sat, wincing as the frame of the chair creaked underneath her weight. She kept her hands into her lap, fearful to put them on the wooden surface of the table. She was done for. This was it. This was the end. She would die here, in this hellhole with no one that she loved beside her. She would never get the chance to apologize to Frank. She would never get the chance to hold him again. She would never see her brother, or her other friends. She was entirely alone.

Mercy kept her eyes on the table as he sat across from her, leaning back against the wooden frame, his hands folded at his chest as he peered at her, a malicious smile on his face.

“I wish you would just kill me now and get it over with,” she said quietly, blinking away tears. They fell down her cheeks, leaving salty tracks on her flesh.

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that? Where would that leave me? I would have nothing to bargain with. Don’t you see? This isn’t all about you, darling. This is about them. You are the heart and soul behind those men, and I want them to suffer. For me to do bring that upon them, I need you. Alive. They will do anything for you, will they not? As long as you are still breathing, I have something they want. Something they need,” he said, holding his hands out beside him, palms up and fingers spread.

“What have they done to you? Why do you hate them so much?”

The Faithless stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace. “Because they are horrible men. They fill young people’s minds with useless garbage. They say that it’s okay to commit suicide, that it’s okay to beat women. They don’t deserve to be where they are. They don’t deserve to be allowed to send out that message. They deserve to die. They deserve to lose everything.”

“You’re wrong,” Mercy whispered, shaking her head.

“What?”

“You’re wrong,” she repeated, more loudly. “They do not say it’s okay to commit suicide, to beat women. Their music is teenagers life line. They hold a positive message. They tell people that it’s okay to be fucked up, that it’s okay to have problems. They say that ending it isn’t worth it, that there are other ways to get through it. You have no idea what you’re talking about! You have no idea what those men are like! They are the most loving, most amazing men on the face of this planet!”

The Faithless strode across the room, rearing his hand back. It flew in the air, crashing into her cheek and sending her sprawling into the wall. The world seemed to spin around her, stars clouding her vision as she lay on the floor, one hand at her cheek.

“YOU don’t know what you’re talking about! YOU are blinded by your love for these men! Don’t you EVER talk to me like that again! Do you hear me!? EVER!,” he yelled over her, his face going red with anger.

She whimpered again, scooting far away from him. Her back was pressed against the wall, blood starting to leak out of her lip, trailing down her chin to splatter against the soiled floor. There was no sense in arguing with him, in trying to make him see reason. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was so wrong in his thoughts about the guys. He thought he knew, but he really didn’t. He wasn’t really listening to them, wasn’t really grasping what their message was. And she couldn’t bring herself to allow him to keep believing that.

“I’m not blinded. I was like you, at first. I didn’t like them. But I came to see how they truly were. I came to see what brilliant men they were. You are the horrible man here, not them. You’re atrocious and wicked, and you should be put back in jail, where you belong.”

He let out a growl as he reached down, grabbing a handful of her hair. He brought his hand back once more, this time curled into a fist. She watched as it was brought down over and over, colliding with her face. He continued to beat her for what felt like forever. Blood covered her face, her clothes. It drenched her hair and his fist as it continued to come into contact with her flesh. He incessantly beat her until finally, darkness besieged her.