What You Did in the Dark

"My arms are sore. The water’s cold and dark. I’m in the middle of a watery nowhere, waves crashing and tides pulling and sky rippling with thunder. It’s raining now. My legs and arms are struggling to keep me above surface, and I don’t know how long I’ve been out here. I only saw the moon once. I can’t keep doing this, I have to die…

This is it. This is where I die.

I know I can’t survive this fight anymore. Hesitantly, I let myself sink below the surface, letting the water sting my nostrils and taking in a large gulp of water to my lungs…”

Aleria wrote in her private journal everyday, almost all of the entries about someone dying, if not, her venting about how she wants to die herself. When she decided that killing a fictional person on paper wasn’t good enough for one day, she turned the page and started a new entry.

"I can and can’t do it. Suicide, that is.

Just think; it would be so easy just to take a razor and dig it into my wrists, slicing over the artery present. Or to take that razor and drag it violently across my throat. Or to throw myself in the heavily polluted, 14-foot lake that was behind the trees in the park. I could do it. I wanted to do it. But I can’t. I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing, but it’s almost like something’s literally forcing me not to do it. Whether it’s good or bad, I haven’t decided.

Everytime I go to the park, I enter with one thought: I’m gonna jump in. Today’s the day.

But then whenever I get within two feet of the edge, I turn and run either to a swingset or home. Why didn’t I do it? Am I really that scared to die? I never thought it was, I always thought that dying was a gift. Close your eyes and rest in piece. But do I want to explore more of this terrible world first?”



"Did you know there’s a park not five blocks from here? I didn’t. Maybe we should get out more. We should go, Oli."

Oliver kept his eyes trained on the television, thumbs viciously flicking the nunchucks on his video game controller back and forth. He pretended not to hear Tom’s question. If he acknowledged it, he knew that Tom would somehow find a way to convince him to go, and he didn’t want to. Parks meant people. People meant bullying.

"Whaddya say, bro?" This time, as Tom struggled to catch his brother’s attention, he nudged him lightly with his elbow.

Oliver held his absent-minded act. He raised an eyebrow, “What?”

"I was saying that there’s-"

"Boys, come down stairs for dinner!"

Tom sighed as Oliver ambitiously paused his video game, jumping up and dashing downstairs.

"So, how was counseling, Oliver?" Carol, the boys’ mother, asked.

Oliver was surprisingly really open when it came to talking about his therapy. It was school he wouldn’t talk about. “It was alright. The same old stuff.”

Carol nodded, forking a green bean into her mouth. “What did you talk about today?”

"Er…he just asked me stuff about my…habits."

"Okay," she said, seeming to accept the answer. She had a drift that Oliver was slowly getting better. But oh, she was so wrong.

"Let’s go check out that park, aye?" Tom brought up while Oliver was washing the dishes. "It’s still light out. We’ll be gone half an hour."

"I dunno, Tommy. It might rain," Oliver quickly thought up an exuse.

"No it won’t. Come on, get a coat on!"

Tom was sliding his on his arms. Oliver knew he couldn’t get out of this one.

They stayed silent as they walked to the park, occasionally getting closer and closer until they would playfully bump each other’s shoulders and separate again. This happened again and again until they reached their destination.

Upon entering the small park, Oliver noticed a girl swinging quietly on one of the swingsets. The only people in the whole park were Oliver, Tom, the girl, and what looked to be new parents to a small child.

Aleria was sad that day. She had no choice but to retreat to her quiet place, the one that puts her at ease, where her “green willow grows”. So she sat there swinging until two shaggy heads of hair entered her “domain”. She could have sworn they looked familiar—had she met them before?—but she was busy marvelling at how gorgeous the brown-eyed one was.

Oliver tried not to stare too much at the pretty girl swinging.

They sat on a bench, taking in the calming slight chill of the October air. The park had green grass with dying patches, one swingset with two swings, a set of rusty monkey bars and a couple of benches. That was it. From what he could look at, Oliver could tell that no one visited the park that often. He found himself taking a liking to the small area.

A couple minutes later, though, small rumbles of thunder could be heard. He looked up and saw that the beautiful girl was already leaving, and he felt a rain drop splatter on the back of his exposed hand.

"Well…I guess you were right about the rain. Let’s get going, I guess," Tom said.

On her way home, Aleria was aware of the boys behind her. The gorgeous tall one and the shorter one with captivating eyes. Though she was enthralled that he was still in close proximity with her, she grew sort of paranoid.

"Are you guys following me?" She asked, stopping in her trail so the two could catch up.

"No," the blue-eyed boy answered. "We’re just walking home."

"Oh," she said stupidly. She was surprised to hear that he had an English accent. They fell in step with her, the two of them walking on each of her sides. "Er…where do you live?"

Blue Eyes recited their address, and she now knew why they looked familiar.

"No kidding," she spoke, "that’s next to my house. I thought you guys looked familiar."