Red Lighter ✧ John Murphy

XXIX - Why Would You Do That?

January 27th, 2016

WARNING: This chapter does include a near-suicide attempt, the same as the episode. If this bothers you or triggers you in any way, DO NOT READ the parts in between where I have made the text LIKE THIS. I want you guys to stay safe, and I don't want my writing to bother you. 

Okay, well, bye. :)

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Months had gone by. Or, rather, it seemed like it. With the time that we had, we could tell that it was a little less than a month.

We were on our last bottle of water, less than half. We had stayed away from alcohol as much as we could, but I couldn't deny that I hadn't had a few sips of it when I was stressed by our current situation. We only had two boxes of food left, one filled with instant-pasta and the other filled with macaroni and cheese. We were going to die, and we both knew it.

"I love you," Murphy said to me one day. "You know that, right?"

I nodded, too exhausted to sit up from where I laid on the carpet and faced him while he leaned against the couch with his elbows on his knees.

"Of course I do," I said, my voice hoarse from the lack of water. "You tell me each day. And I love you as well, Murphy."

He noticed the sound of my voice, reaching for the bottle. "Drink, Ven."

"I don't need it," I said, pushing it away.

"Yes, you do," he argued. "You need it more than I do, now please take it," he said. He almost seemed like he was beginning me to take the water. "Take the rest of it, Ven."

"But then you won't have any," I said, swallowing with a dry throat. "There's enough for both of us," I said.

"Ven, please," he said, putting the bottle down in front of me. "Just drink it. I don't need it."

"I'm fine," I told him, burying myself further into the covers, closing my eyes and attempting at sleeping.

He nodded slowly, not seeming like he was willing to argue with me. He put the bottle down on the bed beside me, then got up.

"Where are you going?" I asked groggily. I was half asleep by now.

"I'm just gonna check something," Murphy said, but he was lying. I could hear it in his voice. But before I could interrogate him about what he was really doing, he was gone.

(SKIP THIS IF SUICIDE BOTHERS YOU)

All I wanted as to sleep. I was exhausted, and I knew that, if I slept, I wouldn't feel the need to eat or drink. Maybe that meant I would live just a little longer. I could hear Murphy talking in the living room. I didn't know why he was speaking, or if he was speaking to a person, but I was too tired to get up. That is, until I heard him yell out, "So SCREW YOU!"

I jumped up, the yelling startling me. I got up and out of the bed after rubbing my eyes, and went to the bedroom door, where I almost burst out crying at the sight in front of me.

Murphy had tears running down his face, his entire body shaking. His hands held a gun up under his chin, and if he pulled the trigger, the bullet would go straight through his brain.

"Murphy!" I screamed, and he flinched. He dropped the gun suddenly, but didn't look at me. It hit the floor, and thankfully, still didn't go off.

I lunged at the couch, going on my knees and sitting in front of him. I took his face in my hands, looking him in the eyes while tears flooded in mine.