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“I’m waiting outside the office,” Keith whispered to the tape recorder sitting in his bag. A few of the teachers gave him weird glances, silently wondering what he was doing - but he didn’t care. He’s had so many strange glances thrown at him that he learned not to feel self conscious about them anymore. He naturally wanted to give them the finger, but he’d rather have more time at home than in detention.
“I don’t see any movement.”
He kept silent for a few seconds to watch through the window. Why isn’t he coming to get Keith? He left obvious hints, yet Mr Knight isn’t... doing anything. He exposed his vulnerable side to someone he barely knew and they did nothing about it. Nothing. What kind of councillor is Knight if he doesn’t help his patients?
Keith deflated. “He’s not coming.”
He walked through the staff room and into the school hallway. So, this is it, huh? This is the last time he’ll ever step foot in these halls, the last time he’ll close his locker - the last time he’ll be here. And unsurprisingly, he was relieved. He’s excited to go. To die and never come back.
“I hope I’m making it clear... that no one is here to stop me.” The hallway was empty, excluding him, so he talked aloud in contrary to his whispers in the staff room. He glanced at the classrooms he walked past, quickly peering in through the window; he could see familiar people and he almost stopped walking altogether. Hunk. Pidge. Shiro. Allura. Lance. He’ll miss them all. But they won’t miss him.
“Some of you cared- but none of you cared enough,” Keith bit his lip, moving his face closer to his bag to make sure it picks up what he’s saying. “And neither did i, and I’m sorry.”
He reached the end of the hallway. The doors stood in front of him, yet he turned back and looked at the school for the last time, taking it all in. The second he’s out of the doors, his decision is made. There’s no going back. And he’ll never stand here ever again.
“So... that’s the end of tape thirteen,” he said, “there’s nothing left to say.”
⏭
He was home now. The boxes of tapes were dropped off at the post office. The decision is made - his fate is sealed. There’s no going back now.
Rummaging through his almost-empty wardrobe, he found an old faded t shirt with leggings and changed into them. Luckily, they still fit - just about, though, because they were actually quite big. Perhaps they’re just well worn? Unlikely. He hasn’t eaten enough in the past year.
Next, he shuffled into the bathroom and walked over to the bathtub, turning on the cold tap. He knew what he was doing; cold water causes blood to pump faster, which will hopefully quicken his death throughout the hours. Mickey and Zoe are to come back from their meeting at 6pm, so he has just over three hours to bleed to death. That’s enough time, right? That’s what Keith figured out, at least, after spending hours researching things. The amount of time he spent planning this out was sad - figuratively and literally. But he wanted this. He needed this.
He walked back to the sink, where a box of razors lie on the edge. Picking it up, he slid it open and took out one of the blades. He had stolen these from his foster parents’ store not long ago, and thankfully, they didn’t notice. Or care, Keith thought. He would be lying if he said the thought didn’t sting; they were his foster parents, for heavens sake. They may not treat him right but at least they gave him a home. (The thought was debatable, but Keith knew that he’d rather live here than that shitty orphanage again.)
As if to test the waters, Keith raised the blade and slowly slid it across his thumb. Immediately, his skin broke and beads of blood started seeping out from the cut. He smiled. Then, after a few seconds, he looked up and into the mirror.
Adrenaline started pulling through his veins. This is really happening, he thought to himself, this is... this is real. I’m finally doing it.
He walked over to the tub again. His right leg went over the edge and started sinking into the bath. He winced slightly - the water was already soaking into his clothes and it was not a nice feeling. He did the same thing with his left leg, and after a few seconds of nothing, he lowered himself.
He instantly cringed. The water molecules clung onto his clothes desperately, and he shivered unintentionally when he felt the liquid start to soak his underwear. If it were two years ago, he’d be complaining by now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.
When he was used to the cold, he reached for the same razor he tested and held it in his right hand. This part has to be done accurately or it won’t work. He knows that it’s best to cut vertically, because then it’s easier to slice a vein, and it’s better on the wrists. Places like thighs and stomach have too much layers on top of the veins, so it would be harder to target one. So forearms it is.
Slowly, he raised his hand and hovered the razor above his left wrist. He waited for a bit, as if to gather up courage, before bringing it down and dragging.
He naturally cried out in pain when the razor sliced the skin, and watching all of the blood drip out of his forearm was disgusting and stomach churning but also comforting and so, so right. His mind was buzzing and his skin was tingling and his arm was burning and his eyes were stinging and it just felt so right.
His breath, which were more like struggling gasps now, quickened slightly and he switched hands and moved to the other arm. He wasted no time in slicing his skin open, welcoming the new gallon of blood pouring into the tinted water. He whimpered at the pain doubling, but still carried on. Pain isn’t going to stop him.
His hands shook in weakness and he dropped the razor in the bath, watching it slowly sink to the bottom. The blood was flowing quicker each second and the water was becoming opaque very, very fast. He tried to calm his breathing, or at least stifle it, and tilted his head up, looking at the bathroom ceiling. He smiled weakly when he felt his arms turn numb; it was happening quicker than he expected but it was a pleasant surprise.
The dripping of water hitting tiles was all he could hear now. The exhaustion was slowly wrapping around him, like a thin, comforting blanket, and he gave in immediately. He wasn’t even cold anymore. He couldn’t feel.
He couldn’t. Feel.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
⏭
“Keith?” Allura knocked twice on the bathroom door. “You didn’t answer your damn phone, we were supposed to study with Shiro tonight- can you open the door?”
Sighing, she stepped closer, only to stop when she felt something wet on her foot. Looking down, she saw water leaking out from under the bathroom door. What in the world...?
“There’s water all over the damn floor, Keith-“ when she opened the door, her heart leaped out of her throat at the sight of the young boy.
She let out a helpless noise.
“Oh no... no no no no no...” she whispered. She unstably staggered over to the edge of the bath and tried to haul out the top half of Keith’s body - to which she was unsuccessful. His dead weight was too heavy for her and she panicked a little more.
“C’mon Keith, it’s okay, you’re okay.” When his head lulled to the side, her eyes welled up in frustration and sadness. “Keith? Oh goodness...”
She put her left arm under his legs and tried to pull him out of the tub, but he didn’t budge. The water was so cold and Keith was so pale and she was panicking and she didn’t know what to do-
“Shiro...” she whispered, patting Keith’s cheek to help him gain consciousness, “It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine- Shiro!”
Immediately, Allura heard heavy stomps come closer to the bathroom. She focused on Keith once again and for the fourth time tried to haul the boy out of the fucking tub.
“N-no... Keith no,” Shiro weakly exclaimed. He rushed over and knelt next to Allura, desperately trying to get Keith out of the bathroom. The water soaking his clothes made him heavier and made it so much harder to get him out. His skin could be passed as white and Shiro tried to keep the vile from coming up.
“Shiro call 999,” Allura cried into her hand, still holding Keith’s upper half to her chest. She stroked the boy’s mullet as if she were comforting him, only he couldn’t feel it this time.
Shiro fumbled to get his phone and dialled the police in record time.
“Tell them to hurry,” Allura screamed, “Tell them to hurry...”