Suicide Club |SDMN|

18

There's an art to life's distractions,
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
~Hozeir; Someone New

read bold at the end of chapter for a something a bit important

warning: um.... proceed with caution... I'm not going to say much...

J O S H U A was definitely not my favorite demon, but I always seemed to get paired with him. Well, his name isn't really Joshua, that's just the form he was in, his real name is Dolor, but took on the form of Joshua to make people think Josh had DPD when really he was just tormenting the poor lad. He's a real asshole. "Our next target is Tobi. Got any ideas?" Joshua asks leaning back in his chair.

I wasn't really paying attention at the time, so his words went in through one ear and out the other. Can you blame me, though? I was starting to feel something... different. I couldn't describe it well though. It felt like a balloon in my chest getting ready to burst and every second, more air went into it. "Jide!" Joshua snapped in front of my face forcing me out of my daze. "Stop it," he commanded making my once spreading thoughts cease. I sighed. "I know what happening to you," Joshua states getting up from his chair and walking over to me, "and it needs to stop."

"I- I don't know what's happening," I answered truthfully running a hand through my hair. Quickly, I grabbed a familiar box out of my pocket and grab one of the death sticks from it and light it with my lighter breathing in the toxic smoke that once did harm to my body. The cigarettes used to always bring a calming sense over me.

There's really no reason for me to be smoking them. They didn't do anything for or against me now, but it just brought back memories. Good and bad memories. Memories of success and of regret. Memories and joy and death. Death that he had caused.

(this is meant to kind of switch to 3rd person for a like spiritual reason idk but just go with it then when it's done it'll go back to 1st)

   It started out as lighting his bed on fire. He grabbed all his things, one by one, and threw them into the fire, fueling the flames. He thought this through from the beginning. No houses were around so no one would come in to try and stop the burning (knock on wood.) Then he got out the pictures. The people in the glass frames meant nothing to him anymore. One by one, the frames dropped on the ground in front of the smoldering bed only to be crushed by JJ's foot.

   He picked the actual photos out, ignoring the tiny shards of glass embed into his hands as he did so since it wouldn't matter, and threw them into the embers of the flame. The corners of the paper memories burned black slowly disengaging into ash. But they meant nothing to him. Not anymore.

   He felt something ignite in him. His own personal flame erupted inside of him sparking burning away any feelings he once felt. He wanted to regret what he was doing, but he couldn't. It didn't feel possible anymore. He was just a shell of someone who used to be.

   So, he lit a cigarette as the fire caught onto the surrounding wooden furniture he had dosed in gasoline and smirked. He grabbed the extra container of gasoline he had gotten and poured it over himself as the fire crawled towards him. "Bye bitches," he muttered to himself.

He could feel the flames biting at his now wet clothing and scarring he skin. Then he heard it. The sound of knocking. "JJ!" he heard his mother call out. "JJ! Your father and I have come here to apologize!" All the boy could do was choke out in unbearable pain from the burn slowly destroying him.