Now You Know Me | ✓

BONUS ✆ Andrew

7 months before Present

I SQUEEZE MY fists as hard as I can and I'm already flying high. I can't feel my body. My hands are wrapped in tight, cold gloves but that doesn't stop me from twisting my wrists once, twice and I'm rolling at 110 mph. I can't feel the wind. For a moment, I'm traumatized that I'm already dead, but realize that my black helmet is covering my face and I can't feel a thing.

   Kill yourself, Andrew. Do it. You've been waiting long years for this.

   I realize that tears are streaming down my face the moment they land on my glittering bike that my father just got me. The gloves that Cassandra got me as a birthday gift. I nearly stop the bike at the mention of my sister's name.

   I shake my head and accidentally et out a muffled sob, the heavy wind stealing my noises. I mumble, "I'm so selfish."

   I feel Cass's moist fingers intertwined in mine, her blonde hair covering her red eyes, crying my name over again ceaselessly. Don't go, Andrew. Don't leave me.

   I dig my fingers deeper and scream in the middle of the road, my eyes averting to the starlit sky. "I'm so fucking selfish, God damn it! God fucking damn it—"

   I'm at 125 mph and I finally feel free. I feel disorganized, disoriented, but nonetheless free. A feeling I've longed to find.

  But at the back of my brain remains the thoughts of my poor family. What are they going to do?

   They're going to cry, wail, scream, shriek that their son has jumped from a cliff and left no letters behind. He didn't look sad to us. He was perfectly happy. He had no problems, neither mental issues. He was only seventeen. Now my friends. They'll get over it. It'll be a great social discussion at college next year. Oh, yeah, I had a friend that killed himself. I really miss him.

   And some will call this a mistake; Andrew Atkinson was riding his bike at 1 AM and wasn't seeing clearly. Shame on the parents.

   I don't know how I feel anymore. I'm neither happy neither sad. What I usually feel: it's a good sign. That means I won't back up this time.

   I know people will call me a coward. Call me a sinner, that I'm going to hell. Call me a traitor of God. A loser. They have no idea how utterly broken one can be. Lifeless. Numb. Useless.

   At the end of the road, I see a cliff.

   This is my stop. This is my cue.

   It's dark and no one's around, except for owls and wolves that have no clue what they're doing in the background.

   How did beings accept the up-eat-sleep cycle? How are people so caught up in this, to not look around them and ask what the hell is all that?

   The cliff is getting a whole lot closer.