A Second Chance

**TW: implied suicide, implied death, alcohol, funeral

PLEASE take the trigger warning seriously if any of them apply to you! If you would like to to add a tw, feel free to tell me and I will add it. Scroll past the stars if need be!

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The door was thrown open. Hanging from the ceiling was a limp body of a seventeen year old. His clothes were sagging due to him starving himself. His head was drooping. Littering the ground were run, vodka, gin, and several other types of bottles the boy didn’t know but decided to drink anyways.

Mother screamed and Father held her once they discovered the body. Rivers of tears flowed from both of them as they called 911 and waited to see if there was any chance their son would be alive. Calls upon calls came in, sympathizing with them, offering comfort, asking if there was anything they could do to make the loss easier. Mother was barely seconds from tears at any given point. Father was pale and barely there anymore.

The high school held a vigil and councilors insisted that anyone who needed help dealing with his death to come speak with them. Half of his class ended up having some talk with the councilors. It wasn’t a large school, heck, it wasn’t a large town, this sort of thing didn’t happen here.

There was a single question haunting the halls, the streets, and in basic the entire town. Why would he do such a thing?

Mother and Father started packing up the ownerless bedroom, deciding that he would want his stuff donated instead of just letting it sit in the room, never to be used again. Mother couldn’t keep her tears from drowning his clothes, his books, on everything. Father kept having to stop and leave the room. They finally gave up and shut the door, agreeing to get back to work in the morning, though both of them knew that they wouldn’t be able to do so.

The funeral finally took place with the entire town gathered, each in their darkest clothes. Words and tears and flowers filled the area around his casket. The dark mark around his neck was well hidden beneath the collar of his suit as he slept in his eternal slumber. The scars on his wrists were invisible to the crowd under the black sleeves. No one saw how torn down this poor seventeen year old was as they cried for him.

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“Jackson?” a calm and beautiful voice called through the house. “Dinner is done!”

I looked at the rope I was carefully tying around my ceiling fan. My room was still filled with my possessions and everything I’ve ever wanted. My hands suddenly released the rope as I collapsed onto the ground, trembling. Bottles were scattered across my floor, alcohol intermixed with Sprite and fruit punch bottles.

There was a tap on the door. “Jackie? Dinner is done.”

Mother opened the door and looked around, shock filling her eyes. She screamed as she ran over and pulled me into her arms. Father appeared and saw the scene before him. My parents held onto me very tightly.

Thankfully, I was still alive.