He never expected it. The heartbreak, maybe, but when did his ex-wife become like this? He sat there, at work, hands shaking. He held a package. A lowly desk job he had worked for two years while working on the novel he staked his career. His relationship had recently made the pressure weigh on him like the deadline he wasn't going to make. He wrung his hands in his hair. He always knew he loved her reckless. Everything was practical in his life - except for her. His high-school sweetheart, denim jacket and all, Blair proposed to him. They were never a stereotypical couple. Back then, they prided themselves upon that fact. Now he understood the key differences were what brought on their imminent downfall. Lack of trust. Not supporting his career. Had she been right? Should he have become a lawyer with her? In his heart, he knew the words were untrue, that he never would have succeeded in becoming one but it didn't stop what came next.
His vision blurred the gun in his hands he had been sent in the mail. Heart thumping, he slumped on the ground. His hat slumped further on his head. The pain of heartbreak, failure, the loss of his family that had stopped speaking to him because of Blair's antics - it all came back to him. Tears fell on the gun in his hands, tracing his forefinger in the grooves as he leaned on the cubicle walls. He ripped off his suit jacket and flung it with one hand, clinging to the gun as he pressed it to his chest. A year. All the progress was undone with a simple note and a weapon in an anonymous note. "Do with this what you will."
He had killed his ex. He had killed her. Blair, her sarcastic smirk, the teasing, the way she wrapped her arms around his waist before lightly kissing him- all gone. Permanently. Only yesterday. The relationship had been destructive on both ends. She had muttered how she hadn't wanted to kill herself moments before he had committed the act. She wanted him to do it for her. He picked himself up, the gun being shoved in his pocket. He knew others could tell what it was with the noticeable bulge, but he didn't care. No one cared. His coworkers gave him only sneers since he had been employed. His sister had blocked him after texting him the words, "You'll come running back. And I won't pick up the slack for you."
No, he told himself as he pushed through the doors of the building and into the suburban place in which he had grown up in. He sprinted, feet bringing him to a place he knew better than his own home. The park he and Blair would meet up in.
He dropped his gun. No, he wouldn't shoot himself. It was too easy. He had done too much. He deserved more. The sinking feeling in his gut was suffocating enough to kill already. There were ropes laying on the dock, tied to the edge. He picked it up savouring the harshness of the rope for he deserved it.
That fateful day, a man committed suicide. But what is more, is that he is not the only one. Suicide is one of the three leading causes of death for people at the ages of 15-44. And we need to do something about it. This might be a more fanciful story than it is a real example of someone who might do this to themselves, but the message still rings true. People everywhere around you, the ones you suspect the least, the ones you shut out- need your help. We need to spread awareness. Be there for the people around you.
