Prologue
I often delved into the depths of my own mind, constantly consumed by thoughts, drowning in self-doubt and despair.
Being 15 was overwhelming, especially when I felt like I had no one to turn to for help.
My hand shook as I stared at my phone, seeing my friends’ posts—each one a snapshot of their seemingly perfect lives. I couldn’t help but compare myself, feeling like I would never measure up.
But what would I know? I was just a useless kid who wouldn’t amount to anything.
With a heavy sigh, I tore my eyes away from the hypnotic glow of my phone screen. The chaotic mess of my room came into sharp focus.
Messy would be an understatement; dry blood, scattered tissues, empty pill bottles, food wrappers, and general filth cluttered my space more than clothes. My room, the smallest in the house, felt like a prison where my thoughts and I lived in squalor. The walls were a dull grey. Thick, poorly hung curtains blocked out most of the natural light. The smell—a mix of stale sweat, old food, and musty air—clung to everything. At least I had a decent-looking chair to sit in.
It’s safe to say I wasn’t living in the best condition.
My mother didn’t care about me; she only cared for herself and my sisters. My dad was also treated similarly by my mother and sisters before ultimately taking his own life. It made me wonder how they even got together and had children in the first place.
My gaze shifted back to my phone, hoping for the usual posts. Instead, a few notifications appeared, indicating that I had been blocked by all of my friends.
The reality of being blocked by them hit me like a punch to the gut.
But what had I expected? They had never truly treated me as a friend, yet I still clung to the false hope that one day they would understand the pain they caused.
This moment made me realise that I was truly alone.
I enjoyed drawing. Sketching the world around me provided an escape. It was a way for me to express my emotions and thoughts without fear of judgement. The strokes of my pencil on paper became my silent companions in a world where I felt abandoned.
I would sometimes sketch my life, from when I was three years old to the present day, capturing the moments that shaped me into who I am. Every event, no matter how traumatic or joyful, found its way onto the pages of my sketchbook, allowing me to process and reflect on my experiences in a unique and therapeutic way.
Since my mother had been an abusive alcoholic from basically my earliest memories, and my older sisters had decided to follow in her footsteps, there weren’t many happy drawings I could create, if any at all.
Then my years at school were filled with bullying and isolation, further contributing to the darkness in my sketches. I’d found a few “friends.” They were the only friends I needed, I thought. They stayed with me from middle school through high school, and despite the fact that they always picked on me or made fun of my art, I clung to them because they were all I had.
They were a toxic influence on me, but I was too scared to be alone. And now that they had blocked me on all social media, I felt completely abandoned and lost. There was nothing left to hold onto, no one to turn to for support or companionship.
While I slumped against my unwashed mattress—cocooned by the filth of my room—and mused about my bleak existence, I tried to ignore the oppressive atmosphere around me. But the sudden sound of my door opening made me jump internally.
“Oh, my dear, useless brother. I may or may not have a request for you.” A female with strawberry-coloured hair barged into the room. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch sending a shiver down my spine. “You know, Mom’s been so busy at work, and I’m just running low on cash. It would mean the world to me if you could spare a little money for some new clothes and some alcohol.” Her eyes sparkled with expectation, and I could see the calculating glint in them.
It was Ayaka Uji, my older sister, who had always been a troublemaker and never seemed to care about anyone but herself.
“I-I don’t have anything…” I stammered, my heart pounding.
“O-oh, come on, surely you must have something.” Ayaka insisted.
“I really don’t have any money!”
“But what about your dear older sister? She needs your help, you know. And you’re the only man in the family now that that pitiable father of ours is gone.”
“Please, Ayaka, I can’t help you thi—”
“Oh… Really? How useless.”
Ayaka’s eyes narrowed as her personality changed rapidly, and she looked at me with disgust.
I stood up, my legs trembling like they were made of jelly. “I-I’m sorry, I—”
She grabbed my collar, slamming me against the wall. “Pathetic.” She spat.
Tears filled my eyes as I struggled to speak. She noticed something in my hand.
“What’s this? Your phone?”
I tried to speak, to explain, but her icy grip on my collar tightened, cutting off my words. Panic clawed at my throat as I struggled to draw breath.
“Sell it. Or else.” Her words were like a death sentence—inimical and final.
“Please, Ayaka, I need it for scho—”
Her knee drove into my stomach, cutting off my words as I collapsed.
A single knee to my stomach cut off my words as I doubled over in pain, collapsing onto the ground.
“I said sell it! Disobedient parasites like you don’t deserve luxuries!”
She glared down at me with a look of disdain as she kneed me again, making it clear that she meant business.
“And how weak can you get? It’s so fucking ridiculous.”
Her voice dripped with contempt as she sneered down at me, her eyes alight with cruel amusement. She snatched my phone from my limp grasp and hurled it across the room with a savage force, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the silence like a death knell.
I don’t think she even realised she had reduced the value of the phone to basically zero in that moment.
“Why do you keep doing this to me?” I gasped, tears blurring my vision as I struggled to make sense of the cruelty before me.
But Ayaka merely rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as if my suffering were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
“You’re nothing.” She sneered. “You always rely on others. It’s embarrassing. You can’t handle anything on your own. It’s pathetic.” Her voice hissed as she leaned closer. “Someone needs to put you in your place, make you see how insignificant you are. It’s embarrassing to even call you my brother.” She turned to leave the room.
The words hit me like a sledgehammer. I felt a cold emptiness creeping into the depths of my soul. I stood there in shock, the weight of her words sinking in as I struggled to find a response.
“… How long before you finally end it?”
I froze, or maybe I even felt numb. Her words cut deeper than any physical pain ever could. It was a different kind of pain—one that was irrecoverable, one that I could not begin to understand or process.
The weight of her words settled in my chest, and so did a sense of worthlessness and despair.
“… Why would you say something like that?” My voice was barely a whisper, the words escaping me in a hoarse exhale.
She stood there. Her face contorted with a disgusted expression, as if my reaction was exactly what she had been expecting.
“Because it’s the truth.” She replied coldly.
“What do you mean it’s the truth…? What have I done to deserve this kind of treatment from you?”
My voice cracked with emotion; I didn’t know if I could handle her response. She simply shrugged, and a cruel smirk played on her lips as she turned her back to me.
“Just sell that pitiful device of yours; maybe it’ll be the only way you can ever be of any use to anyone.”
She walked away, leaving me huddled there, shattered and defeated.
There was no way I could keep going after that. The thought of following in our father’s footsteps haunted me, but maybe I could join him in the afterlife and finally find some peace. The idea of escaping the pain everyone’s inflicted seemed like the only way out of the darkness that consumed me.
As I thought, my eyes, strung with tears, met a drawer in the corner of my room.
There’s no point going any further than this, no matter how hard I try. This is the only escape I can see now.
I stood up, wiping away the tears that blurred my vision. I walked towards the drawer, opening it to see a single length of thick rope tucked inside. Since the rope was the only thing that caught my eye, I knew it was a sign. Without hesitation, I grabbed it.
My first thought was to shut my room to block out any distractions or interruptions. If my sister was content with me selling my phone for money (which certainly she was), it wouldn’t be long before she came back; she’s one for giving me unrealistic deadlines to do things.
With a lengthy sigh, I began to tie the rope into a sturdy knot. My mind focused on the task at hand.
The rough textures of the rope against my skin grounded me in the present moment, and I was sure this was what I needed to do.
After the knot was tied, the room fell silent, except for my own breathing. The rope taunted me, a constant reminder of my pain. As I reached for it, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. It was an eerie sensation, as if someone—or something—was watching me. I shook it off, attributing it to my heightened anxiety.
It took a bit of work, but I managed to hang the rope on the hook in the ceiling. I stood back to admire my handiwork. The solution to my pain was now within reach, both literally and figuratively.
My next move was to grab the decent-looking chair from the corner of the room. I positioned it directly under the rope, took another deep breath, and prepared myself for what was to come.
No longer would I endure my family’s torment. No longer would I feel trapped in this stressful situation. I was taking control of my own well-being, and it felt empowering.
Standing on the chair, I felt liberated.
This is the end… Goodbye, cruel world.
I hung the noose around my neck, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath before finally kicking the chair out from under me. The weight of my burdens lifted as I felt myself falling, finally free from the pain and suffering that had consumed me for so long.
I expected the pain to be brief, but instead, I felt an excruciating pain, and a wave of fear washed over me as my choking struggles began. Still, I held on to the hope that this momentary pain would soon be replaced by eternal peace.
As I gasped for air, my conscience slowly slipped away, and I battled the instinct to save myself.
Finally, darkness enveloped me, and all sensation faded into oblivion.
