When Light Met Dark // Phan

One

(warning: this story is going to involve a lot of suicidal thoughts. If that triggers you, I don't think this book is for you)

It was dark, but not quite dark enough to consider it pitch black. Instead it was the kind of dark that Dan Howell found peace of mind in, the lack of light not provoking fear, but happiness. It was one of the only things that could cause this emotion these days, and Dan sometimes thought that it was the only thing keeping him going in this thing we call life.

Dan was sat in a children's playground, sitting on the rusty swing, which only moved with the gusts of wind. This was the first place Dan could think of when he had been kicked out; why he'd come here instead of finding somewhere to spend the night, he didn't know.

He didn't care, either.

He sat, his head hanging so the only thing he could see was the gravel beneath him, crunching under his old trainers. He felt utterly hopeless; he had no one to turn to, nowhere to go. Wouldn't it be easier to just end it all now?

He knew there was a bridge over a lake about a mile away.

Dan had felt this way for a while now, but he'd never told anyone; he didn't want to be a burden. He hadn't even told his dad. But at the same time, he was terrified of the void that was death. He'd often pondered it; how no one actually knew what happened after your life inevitably ended. What scared him most was that time would carry on without him, like he never existed, as selfish as he thought that sounded.

But he'd made his mind up; he had nothing left to lose. He looked down at the backpack he'd hastily thrown together, only containing two t-shirts, a hoodie and a pair of jeans. He was already wearing his black denim jacket, though it was worn out after years of use. Similarly, the jeans he was wearing were ripped at the knees. He looked up, telling himself he'll reconsider if there was someone here, but even after checking three times, there was no one, only the occasional bird flying overhead.

He stood up, shrugging the bag on, even though there was really no point. Maybe he'd leave it at the bridge when he jumps.

About halfway there, it started raining, slowly at first, getting heavier as time wore on, though Dan didn't care, if anything, he walked slower.

How did it come to this?

Why did he have to tell dad he was gay? Thinking back on it, he could've avoided the conversation altogether, dad didn't have to know.

The disappointment on his dad's face was temporary, quickly turning into rage, the rage leaving cuts and bruises on Dan's body. The words he said, too. Dan shivered just remembering it, the ice injected in every syllable stabbing him in the chest.

Finally, Dan approached the bridge, the area quiet as if it was completely detached from regular civilization. It was a cobblestone bridge, only meant for pedestrians, but it was relatively high up. The aforementioned lake was a murky brown colour, though the light from the moon reflecting off the surface almost made it beautiful.

Dan sat on the bridge wall, placing his bag on the ground behind him, before checking his watch to see it was 9:54.

Dan Howell was going to die at 10 o'clock on the 23rd of May 2014.

He looked up at the now star-filled sky, the meaning behind each constellation lost with time, though that didn't stop them from being remarkably beautiful. With each breath he took, Dan was aware he was one closer to his last, each minute dragging by increasingly slowly the closer the time came.

As he stared at the abyss far below him, he thought about how much happier he'd be without having to subject the world to his presence, subconsciously shifting himself closer to the edge.