This story contains subjects of a touchy nature. Do not read if you are easily offended or experiencing dark thoughts.

You have been warned.

I need you to promise me two things.

The first is that you won't be mad, baby, that I'm doing this.

And the second is that you won't forget how much I love you.

You wouldn't have suspected it. Never. No one would've dreamed that he was capable of that. Or that she'd react like this.

No one thought.

Everyone was surprised.

But no one thought to stop it.

He shivered as he stood in the cool night air, his slightly tanned skin standing out in the darkness of the night, the street lamps twinkling below him like the stars up so high above him.

His light hair ruffled from the chilly wind, he dug his fingers into the concrete guard railing on the top of the multi-story building.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as his listless eyes looked down, watching the flickering lights of the passing traffic, the bright neon lights of the bustling city nightlife.

The tear dripped down off of his cheek, falling off the edge of the building, heading to the ground so far below, but not making it, never making it, as the tear evaporated into the night before ever reaching the continuing life down on the ground.

Clothing lay strewn about the room, the bed was unmade, the blinds still closed. It was a mess, but still she stood in the middle of it all, her hair a mess from where her hands had ran through it many times in frustration, her eyes red and puffy from her tears, her body shaking in fear.

Her eyes darted around, glancing only briefly at the clothing that was thrown about carelessly, ignoring the glass that had been knocked over, even as the apple juice that was once in it slowly soaked into the once white carpet, staining it. Finally her eyes locked onto a pile of paper, and she moved for the first time in an hour, stepping forwards through the clutter, one trembling hand coming out in front of her body to pick up the pile of bright white notes.

Shuffling through, her eyes flickered over each note before it made its way to the messy floor, bank statements, phone bills, letters from family, notes from school, all having their turn before falling to the ground.

Finally, she found what she was after, the one note hidden in the middle, the corners crinkled, and the ink running in some spots from tears that had undoubtedly fallen during the writing.

The remaining notes fell from her hand as she stood by his desk, reading the note that she knew was in his handwriting, the note she knew was stained with is tears, even as her own fell once more.

He glanced back at the fire door, seeing it still firmly shut. Sighing, he closed his eyes, turning around once more, facing out away from the building.

Sobs wracked his body as he slowly moved, carefully raising one foot up onto the safety ledge, resting his elbows on his raised knee as he looked down, tears rolling thick and fast down his face as his thoughts turned from dark to light and back again, memories once burnt into his brain playing back in front of his eyes, his father leaving when he was five and not ever coming back; his arms wrapped around his girlfriend as they lay together in bed one morning, not even a month ago; his mother's hand coming down on his face as she slapped him, screaming abuse at his as she hit every part of his teenage body that she could reach, just that morning.

His hands came off his knee to pull his white designer t-shirt up slightly, exposing the green and yellow bruises marring his toned flesh, showing the dark red welts where his mother had hit him, the pink scratches on his taught muscles, from where she'd tried to claw the black ink tattoo off of his body.

The shirt dropped down again as his hands moved higher, his fingers threading into his ruffled blonde hair, gripping it tight as thoughts and memories of the abuse his mother put him through ravaged his mind.

A raw scream tore its way from his throat as he threw his head back in anguish, desperate to escape from the demons in his mind and life.

His weight shifted onto the foot on the ledge as he forced his body up, his other foot coming to stand on the ledge, shoulder width apart as he stood up on the ledge, his eyes closed, his fists clenched by his sides, his entire body shaking with sobs as he gasped for breath, so close to escaping.

Her tears mixed with his on the note, the ink running once more, making it almost impossible to read, but still she managed, anguish clear on her face.

"Baby girl,

I love you. I've wanted to tell you for so long but I didn't have the guts to do it. But I do, I love you, even if I shouldn't. I've loved every moment I've spent with you, from watching your gigs as you work with your band, to seeing you cheer me on from the sidelines as I play soccer with the guys for our school team.

I've loved holding your hand as we walk around, I've loved holding your gorgeous body as we lay down at night to sleep, and I've loved waking up to see you in the mornings, looking so peaceful and happy.

I've loved it all so much,

And that's why I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so, so sorry for doing this to you, to everyone. I know I don't fit the stereotype and I know that I'm going to cop a lot of flak for this when word gets out, but I want you to ignore it, baby, please don't let it hurt you too. I know I'm going to hurt you by doing this but I don't want you to go through any more pain after it's all done and I'm gone.

I'm so sorry baby,

I never meant to hurt you, I never wanted to cause you pain, or to see you cry.

But I just can't keep going, I can't take it anymore, I can't handle the pain, the mental torture from all the names, I can't take the jeers and the taunts and the abuse. I can't take it anymore, baby, I just want it all to end and this is the only way I can think of. I'm so sorry.

Please don't look for me; I don't want you to see it. Promise me you won't look, ever.

I'm sorry, baby,

But I need you to promise me two things.

The first is that you won't be mad, baby, that I'm doing this.

And the second is that you won't forget how much I love you.

I'm sorry, baby.

I love you so much,


The paper fell to the ground in a crumpled ball as she followed, sinking to her knees as she screamed, feeling so lost and powerless, her heart breaking with every breath.

He glanced back at the fire door again, once more reassured when it was still firmly shut with no sign of anyone about to open it. Closing his eyes, he sighed, turning his body back to face out away from the building, his weight shuffling from foot to foot on top of the ledge.

He hesitated, unsure of which step to take, the step back, into life, or the step forwards, into death.

He sobbed once more, his chest heaving as he tried to work out what to do.

He knew how much shit he'd get for this either way, be it his attempt or his success. No "jock" did this, the popular athletic boy with all the friends and the hot girlfriend, money to burn, they didn't do this, he shouldn't do this.

But no one knew of the abuse he went through, the abuse that drove his father away, that left him to face the full force of it. No one knew, not even his girlfriend, the girl he loved with all his heart. No one knew, and anyone that he did tell, wouldn't believe him anyway.

He flinched as he remembered why he was up here in the first place, remembering the sting of his mother's hand on his body, the pain from when she slapped, punched, kicked, even bottled him, remembering each and every scar that adorned his body, and how he got them all, what he'd done to deserve such punishment, if he'd done anything at all.

His hands came up to grip his hair once more as he shuffled forwards slightly, anger and pain contorting his handsome features, each muscle in his body tensed in anticipation.


He screamed, his head thrown back as his toes crept out over the ledge.

Her hands came to a grip on the legs of the desk chair, and she swung with all her strength, the chair sliding out and across the room, hitting the wall with a loud crash.

She screamed again, swiping her arm over the coffee table next, knocking all of his possessions to the ground. Glass shattered as it impacted with the ground suddenly, spare change tinkled, CD's clattered, notes and paper went flying in every direction.

She stood up then, panting for breath, her eyes blazing with rage and hurt as she looked about the chaotic room. She reached out to his desk and grabbed his laptop, hurling it across the room where it crunched against the wall before falling to the mess on the floor. His desk lamp and money tin followed quickly, before she moved on, over towards the bed where she slept with him just the week before.

Her nails dug into the bedding as she sobbed, tears of rage and despair falling down her cheeks as she tore into the pillows, feathers flying every which way in the room.

Still angry, she grabbed the edge of his plasma screen television, pulling it down from its stand, jumping back and sobbing as the screen shattered on the ground, thousands of dollars going to waste.

Her arm swiped out once more, sending bottles of alcohol flying off a shelf, the bottles shattering on the ground and walls, hundreds of dollars' worth of vodka, whiskey and scotch spreading out across the carpet, going to waste.

She fell to the floor, sobs wracking her body as she cried, her face pressed against the carpet as she lay in an unladylike heap in the trashed bedroom, blood slowly seeping out of her arms, chest and face as fragments of broken glass and plastic cut into her soft skin, the red of her blood mixing in with the stains of cordial, juice and alcohol that were already dampening the carpet in the destroyed room.


She whispered brokenly, her eyes shutting as tears continued to roll down her cheeks.

His clothing was pressed tight to his body as the wind roared in his ears, his arms and legs spread wide as another sob was torn from his body, even as his mind came to life in euphoria caused by the free fall, his sense alight in joy knowing that he was finally free.

His eyes closed as the ground rushed up to meet him, a smile on his face as he took his last breath, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

The door burst open, his mother storming into the chaotic room, her own bottle of alcohol falling out of her hand as she saw the mess in her only son's bedroom, her drunken eyes finding the crumpled note that his girlfriend had dropped. A shaky hand came out to grab it, her unfocussed eyes struggling to read it.

The meaning of the words in his note slowly penetrated her alcohol dulled mind, the concept of her only son being gone causing her to gasp, stumbling back out of his room, slamming and locking the door behind her, trying not to believe that he would do that.

His girlfriend lay on the floor as consciousness slowly slipped from her, her blood spreading further out across the room, a piece of glass previously unseen shredding her forearms, her arteries ruptured as his mother backed out and locked her alone in the room.

A woman screamed. A man swore loudly. Footsteps pounded on the pavement as people clustered around the boy lying on the sidewalk, his once white designer t-shirt stained red, his surf brand jeans torn, one of his sports shoes missing. His hair and face were stained red, his body lying in a way that shouldn't be possible.

Hooves clattered on the road as mounted police rushed to the scene, foot officers calling for an ambulance as they struggled to keep the crowd away from the fallen boy.

The pride of his school, the handsome, popular son of community icon, turned into another anonymous body on the pavement, hundreds of passer-by's gathering to glimpse a look at him before they walk off and go back to their lives, not caring about what happened to cause him to end up there.

A senior police officer arrived on the scene, looking down on the broken boy. He shook his head, thinking of his own son at home.


A neighbour pounded on the bedroom door, having heard the commotion from his own house just across the fence. His shoulder slammed against the wood, causing it to splinter as he fell through into the room, almost falling on top of the girl on the floor, her skin almost the same colour as the carpet was originally.

His phone flew to his ear as he dialled desperately for an ambulance, dropping to his knees next to the girl as his other hand searched for a pulse, a horrified gasp escaping his lips as he failed to find it, leaning back on his knees as he looked sadly at the sweet young girl.



This work is pure fiction. There is nothing to it; it's simply something that came out of my mind in light of something that I read in the newspaper at work the other day.

This is fiction.

Do not try this at home.

As an author, I am exploring the boundaries of social behaviour and putting into words a tragedy that too often occurs in our society. I am not promoting or advocating suicide as the answer in any way, shape, or form.

If you are feeling depressed and having thoughts that encourage the actions of this story, do not keep it to yourself, talk to someone, be it a trusted adult, a parent, a school teacher, a counselor. Do not keep it to yourself. Talk to someone and receive the help you need to get you through those tough times.

Suicide is not the answer.

Help is available.

At the end of the day, if ever you're feeling down, if your mind does wander across this path, don't keep it to yourself, don't bottle it up, talk to someone, get help, and get through it.

Suicide is not the answer.