Day 1,362. I wish that they would let me speak. My teammates will shut me up each time I even dare let a sound escape my mouth. By now, I've stopped trying to tell them that this is wrong. You can't treat your teammates like this, right? This is abuse.
Before I became a paladin of Voltron, I really looked up to Shiro and (hated) Keith. Pidge and Hunk were cool. After arriving on Aros and everyone's a paladin, they started shutting me out and excluding me from literally everything.
They used to be happy including me in team meetings, until they finally let me just be there, until they stopped inviting me at all or telling me about them. Most of the times, I go into missions blind and unknowing on what to do. I just usually observe my teammates and do what they're doing. Usually I do that and then they tell me I'm doing it wrong and screwing everything up.
I'm not gonna be silenced anymore. I haven't talked at all for over a year, and I yearn to make a sound once more. They ignore me and don't treat me like I'm an actual human quiznaking being. Soon, this torture will be over.
Lance set down the pencil and closed his journal. He carefully set it on his night stand and went to the restroom. He stared at his tired reflection, his once golden tan skin a sickly pale color, huge bags under his eyes that stretched with his every facial expression. His fingernails were dry and brittle and his lips were chapped and grey.
His grey eyes had once shined blue and he usually had a smile on his face. Looking at this ghost of a being in the mirror, Lance couldn't help but feel disgusted. Disgusted that he had to be this way, that everyone hated him. Disgusted that his voice was so annoying and that he hadn't used it in a year. Disgusted that he had to wither away while everyone watched in delight.
Lance grit his teeth and rolled his hands into two shaky fists. Tears threatened to pour out of his eyes and dampen his hollow cheeks. No sound could escape his lips.
He wanted to be rid of his squeaky voice. He didn't want to speak again or make a sound. He didn't want to scream in agony as he cry curled up into a ball in the bathroom corner.
Carved into his mind was the phrase, the same one he repeat to himself every day. The same three words, simple but filled with so much meaning.
End my suffering.
Those were the last words Lance chose to speak. Those words were he last things he wanted to say before he silenced himself forever.
Lance snuck to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he could find. Now, silent, Lance thought to himself as he went back to his bedroom and sat at the edge of his bed.
He raised the knife up to his throat, hands shaking wildly. He grit his teeth and winced at the blade so close to his skin.
Lance was so caught up in his little world, that he didn't hear the knock on his door. The person behind the door knocked again, snapping him back to reality.
"Go away. My voice is annoying, and if you don't leave right now I'll make your ears suffer," Lance sneered.
They left, whoever had knocked on the door. They obviously didn't want to hear Lance.
"End my suffering," Lance said as he plunged the blade into his neck.
It took a day for them to notice. Shiro was walking down the hall when he noticed the slight scent of blood coming from Lance's room.
Shiro opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Lance laying on the floor, unresponsive.
"Lance?" He said weakly. Seeing him like that brought back memories from the gladiator arena. "Lance!!" Shiro yelled.
He noticed a tiny notebook on the nightstand.
He took a few careful steps closer and picked it up. Shiro flipped through the pages until he found the latest one.
He forced himself to read through as much of it as possible, but soon he couldn't take it and he threw the book across the room.
Shiro clenched his fists and tried to hold back the tears. This was Lance who was dead in front of him. His teammate, the one who had brought life to this adventure, the person who lit up everyone's lives with comedy.
Lances funeral was held a few days later. Everyone was clouded with a depressing energy. Nobody could bear to see Lances discolored face, empty and devoid of life.
Everyone paid their respects. "As Lance would've said.. He put the fun in funeral.." Pidge muttered sadly.
"Yeah. He always made jokes at the wrong time.." Keith sighed.
"I'm sorry that we had been so terrible to him.. Now it's too late. I should've known. We all should have done better," Allura said as she started sobbing.
Soon after, the funeral concluded and nothing was the same. Nobody could cooperate with each other, and Team Voltron soon fell apart.
Nobody could cope well with Lances death. And he was gone forever.
