Yellow overtones now crushed into the sleeping blue as the sun rose on his face. A nameless fear sunk in his veins and he contemplated memorized every detail of the world. He had weighed everything he loved in the palm of his heart and wondered if it was worth it.
But deep inside, he knew he had made this decision a long time ago.

Tara climbed into the room. She shuffled around uncertainly.
It had been two days since she had seen him.
The posters on the wall stared back at her, a fatal mixture of anger and silence. A few syringes were piled in the corner. She had been in his room so many times before. But never without him there.
Somehow without him now, it wasn't the same. As if he had taken all those memories and went away.

Clothes on the line. An empty porch. An almost empty jar of lemonade slept sideways on the table, a streak of the juice riding all the way to the edge where it fell onto the croncrete, drop by drop.
A note wrapped with ribbon. Ben's last words to the world.

His mother pulling at the string. Reading and dying inside.
Crying out.

Tara scrambled to pull the note away from the grieving mother. She read it, eyes skimming over twice, taking in everything before the world slipped away from her grasp.

'...and i will be happy again at the most beautiful place in the whole world. i'm sorry...'A possibilty swept at her feet. The mother asked and asked. But Tara pulled back and ran away.
Ran to the place of the possibility.

Ran to the place where her world could end.

He ran his hand over the rocks. The memories swirled back at him. He wanted to cut them, tear them alive, make them feel what pain he felt. So that they would become miniature suicidal bags and jump off the cliff along with him.

A shuffle of feet. He froze.

"Did you ever think about how I'd be affected?"

Tara was here. He shut his eyes.
Remorse set in like a fire to a forest. It ate up his anger. He had hated life for being this dirty. Playing with him so that he'd never know where he'd fall.
Hated life for giving him that one ray of light that would pull him into remission for a while. Make him feel life was beautiful. He'd always feel complete with Tara.

But sometimes, maybe it wasn't enough.
Like now, when fate swung his angry arm at his brother.

A flicker of images. Dying. A smile. Good memories. Bad memories.
Derrick in a battlefield. Derrick at home.
Derrick dead.

"I did. And you're better off without me."

She took another step. "Says who?"

"You deserve someone better than a suicidal jerk who puts himself first when he decides he doesn't want to live anymore."

She shook her head. Tears let out.

"I'm not fucking letting you go."

But he knew better. He knew that she knew how much he needed this. Death was not just escape. It was redemption. He could never deal with the addiction and death.

He walked upto her. Took her pale face in his hands and kissed her. A kiss of fractured thoughts and breaking hearts. Let go. Pushed her to the ground.
Walked to the edge. Her shriek found it way to him

He pulled his hands up as far as it would go.
"Tara, think of it as my freedom."

On one of his hands, she saw the string of punctures. He was in bliss mode.He took a moment to turn towards her. Smiled the smile that had taken away her breath a while ago.
And jumped.