Nick sat isolated on the floor behind a closed door, the orange glow of the street lights filtering in from the windows, casting inconsistent, colourful lines across the room and across his despair ridden face. His eyes were swollen slightly and red from crying. He was back, Nick thought to himself, back in the bad place. He had stopped crying when he realised what he needed to do. He looked up to a small table and watched the orange glow glisten across the steel of a large kitchen knife he had taken from one of the cupboards further up the bus. He stared at it; realisation hit him. "I'm going to suffer like this all my life…" Nick had accepted as he cried, but Nick was now determined and unafraid. "If I'm going to suffer my entire life…" Nick heard his mind say. "…Then I might as well end my life tonight…" Nick stood up swiftly and gripped the knife in his right hand. He laid his left wrist onto the table. He rested the blade onto his wrist and shivered slightly when he felt the cold metal on his warm and pulsating wrist. Nick closed his eyes and began to pray. He prayed for his salvation and prayed for the comfort of those he was going to leave behind- Brian; his loyal friend and band mate for all these years. Baylee; the little bundle of joy he can come to love like his own son. Leighanne; who had cared for him and cradled him like her own child. AJ; he would miss his playfulness and his energy… Nick only realised he was crying when the image of the knife over his wrist began to blur. His mind drifted to Aaron who had self-harmed. Nick recalled his reaction, which had made Aaron cry. Now all Nick was going to be was a hypocrite. He hoped Aaron knew that he loved him.
He briefly pondered the idea of heaven and hell. Of course suicide meant his soul was going to be sent straight to hell, but, it could be no worse than what he was living now. He sniffed trying to tell himself to stop crying. This is what he wanted, so why was he so upset? He told himself there were so many things he hadn't done. His imagination conjured up his funeral and he watched all their unhappy faces say goodbye to him. They wouldn't miss him that much-would they? Nick thought. He was just the guy who brought everyone down with his anxiety attacks and depression. He recalled saying goodbye to AJ as he went to rehab, hoping he would live to see another day back on tour with them. Nick had prayed for his safety and hoped detox would not be too strenuous for him.
Nick firmly closed his eyes, no longer wanting to see the world he loved, which had betrayed him-it would be too hard to say goodbye. Nick's crying increased as he realised the tour bus window was the last thing he was ever going to see.
Nick began to count up. One-he said goodbye to his friends and family. Two-he said goodbye to his band mates and colleagues. Three- he said goodbye to his fans… as he drifted the knife slowly across his wrist. He flinched in the pain, his eyes clenching and his body moaning. His crying became more intense. All of the positive things in the world to him, flooded to him quickly. The sound of the ocean waves lapsing against the shore, laughing and giggling, the sound of the crowd screaming his name, the trustful moans heard of two people in love…love Nick pondered over…he remembered the first time a girl had told him she loved him. He cried more, as the knife hit the table on the other side of his wrist. He daren't look down. He felt himself grow dizzy. He felt the wetness of the blood as it oozed from his veins and the pulsating of his panicked heart trying to fix the problem.
He opened his eyes reluctantly and looked, realising not much was happening. He saw the harsh, thin scrape filling with and producing blood. He saw the blood drying and clotting. He knew he hadn't cut himself deep enough to guarantee his death. Not only was he suffering but he was now a coward. Too afraid to fully let go and leap into whatever lay beyond. Something was definitely holding him back. In his drowsiness Nick stumbled and felt something under his hand as he fell back onto the floor. He pulled it to his face so he could see it, but it was too dark to read, until another glow of street lights lit up the page. Kyra's story was illuminated briefly before being cast back into the darkness. An act of God? Nick thought.
