The Ledge

I never was a suicidal person. Neither was Marco. I always believed that if we had a problem, we would confide in each other. The Monday after the incident, everyone at school avoided my gaze. They treated me like a bottle ready to pop.

“Hey, you okay?” Alexis called at me in the corridor.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Happy as a clam,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” he asserted skeptically.

“Fine, fine.” I assured him.

Apparently that was enough for him. I continued down the corridor, making my way to first period Science. I simply could not stand the way everyone was silent, their eyes fixed on me, only me. Their hands covered their lips, whispering painful words, their eyes bored into me. I could not stand it anymore. So, I did what I had to do. For the first time in years, I ditched school.

I hope one became worried for me when they discovered I was gone. Really, ditching was not like me. Marco never, ever would have allowed me to ditch. Actually, I used to do those things back when I was in my freshman year of highschool, before I met Marco. When I first came to high school, I was desperate for a cool view. I began skating, smoking, I even tattooed a dragon on my forearm, grew my hair out, began wearing a beanie, and I bullied kids. The only uncool thing about me was my name Alistair, which I quickly resolved. I made everyone call me Ali, which wasn’t too much better, but I beat up everyone who dared say otherwise. I was  a roaring, raging lion of swag and awesomeness, all throughout freshman year and the beginning of my sophomore year. Then I met Marco.

Marco was a short brunette kid with bright green eyes, with horn-rimmed glasses and freckles. He was a typical nerd, loved reading, always doing his homework, you know the rest. Very reserved too, so naturally he became my target. So I relentlessly began bullying him. Mental abuse, mind you, never any physical. But people began urging me to hit, so one day I slammed him against a locker as he had his nose in a book. After I pushed him, Marco calmly took off his glasses, folded them, and looked at me. He had the most dangerous look, but the most beautiful eyes. Surprisingly, he punched me. Hard. I was so surprised I began to laugh, which made him laugh, and gradually, we became best friends.

He made me stop smoking, stop hanging out with the bad kids, made me attend all my classes, stop bullying kids, and with much persistence, cut my hair. We were a match made in heaven. We brought the best out in each other. We first began dating on September 24. A very cool, windy day, the sun just peaking out behind some clouds. We were in the park doing our homework, when a large golden-brown leaf fell on his head. I laughed, saying, “Marco, you look adorable with that leaf on your head! Kinda like a baby!” to which he replied with a smile, “I’m gay and I’m in love with you. I know you may be weirded out, but I couldn’t think of a better time to say this. Your eyes remind me of the golden leaves all around us, the setting sun reminds me of your sunny disposition, the howling winds remind me of how fast you are to protecting me, even when I don’t need it. Thank you.” I remember the words he said to me, the sacred words I would always hold to my heart. He began to pack up when he noticed the tears I was crying that day. I hadn’t cried like that since my parents died in a car crash many, many years ago. He was absolutely stunned. “I love you, too, man,” I  replied with much embarrassment. 

I began writing poetry after that. I ended up winning five competitions and wrote something every day for Marco. Also, I took a knitting class for a while, just so I could knit a beautiful white scarf for Marco. He wore it everyday, hot or cold, and everywhere. But, in my junior year, the grade I’m in now, things began to fall apart. He stopped answering calls, texts, and e-mails. I couldn’t even approach him without him running away. So, I grabbed him when he was exiting his last period, and using my brute strength, I pinned him against the wall.

“Why are you ignoring me? Why? What did I do? Please explain to me!” my voice had rung out with desperation.

“Why? Why? I can’t stand this anymore!” his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done!” I begged him.

“Please let me go. We’re breaking up.” he stated, his expression blank, his voice monotone. I let my arms go limp, setting him free. He hurried away without an explanation. I ran home, my heart feeling like it was torn from my chest. And for the first time in many years, I didn’t do my homework.

I thought I could live with it, that I could live with him being gone. I think I could of but, I was too preoccupied with thinking about how I could patch things up, how we could date again. I thought about what to text and if I should in the first place. Fortunately, he texted me first. Meet me at ______ at 12. The bright screen flashed. Yes! What do I say? What should I wear? These questions flashed in my head. I didn’t even stop to think how weird the meeting place was. I hopped in my car, and drove to a parking lot, I drove to the top floor, expecting to see him waving and smiling. But no, just an empty parking lot. At first I had thought I was stood up, but then I noticed a bright orange envelope taped to the wall on the left corner of the lot. I rushed over to the letter and flipped it open to read:

Dear Alistair,

    I’m so, so sorry. I know you must be wondering why I ignored you and broke up with you. I’ll tell you this: It was me, not you. My father is a strict man. Mind you, he is a very hard-working and devoted man who always encouraged me to work as hard as I could. I love him very much, but he feels very strongly against gays. So, I didn’t tell him that I was dating a man. But eventually I grew tired of lying so I confessed to him. He became very angry, beat me and threw me out the house. He told me once I broke up with you I could return home. He is my only family, so I hate it when he is disappointed in me, as I always feel I must live up to his expectations. I was in conflict for quite a while, living in friends’ houses, and thinking of what I could possibly do. I came to the conclusion that I had to break up with you so I could be happy again. So I did. I was quickly welcomed back home, but I soon realized that I couldn’t live with just one or the other. You are the light of my life, and I could not bear it being put out. I knew I had to be with you, but I could not stand having to deal with my father’s abuse, his disappointment, and his yelling if I were to return to you. So, I’ve settled with neither. I’ve found a place where I can be happy. If you wish to see me one more time, look over the ledge. I am so very sorry. I love you very much.

Forever yours,

Marco❤

    I sobbed. I bawled. He hid all of these emotions within him, he bore all of this alone. I slowly crept to the lot wall and peered over, not knowing what to expect. What I saw was the most gruesome thing I ever laid eyes on. His body was mangled and bloody. His snow white scarf I made for him was crimson red, his eyeglasses were cracked and broken, His gorgeous green eyes were invisible in the lakes of red. Mushy, gray, cauliflower looking gunk littered the floor all around his head. With growing horror, I realized that those pieces were his brains. I retched.

    Now, at this very moment, I stand on the ledge that Marco once jumped off. My dear reader, whoever finds this, remember our story. I’m leaving this story next to Marco’s letter.

Goodbye,

Alistair

SUICIDE IS NEVER THE ANSWER

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