He hadn’t a clue where he was headed, just that he was headed somewhere. The place didn’t matter as much as the [i feeling] he was searching for. Somewhere he could be at peace with himself and finally let go of something he never asked for. Living was nothing more than an endless game of chess, and he didn’t want to be a pawn in someone’s game. This was his life, his right to do with it as he wanted. It just so happens that he wanted to die, and he couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so shocked when he spoke about it nonchalantly. It wasn’t like he was trying to kidnap children and ship them off to North Korea. No, he just wanted to die.
Pollen outstretched his arm and handed off the train ticket to the elder lady in front of the cart. She gave him a nod and tucked it into her belt approvingly. Around him were screaming babies and stressed-out parent’s trying to make sure they didn’t forget anything for their precious vacation’s. He grunted to himself and pushed his way past some of the ignorant people to board. He would never understand why people gathered in front of entrances. It only made it impossible for everyone else.
He made his way to a few empty seats in the back of the cart and plopped down in the chair by the window. It was important that he got to physically see every place they passed in case he decided it was the [i one.] He knew the feeling would come, only wishing he knew when. The waiting was the hardest part ironically, not even the action. The action was the blessing, the prize at the end of the dark abyss. The one thing he knew he would be able to do right. Pollen sighed out and stretched his arms over his head and began to get comfortable hoping that they would depart soon.
The fact that the train was empty-was also a relief for him. It was better to be alone since it was one of the most important days of his life. His thoughts could be unfiltered, and his physical disposition would be unmatched. Nothing could destroy his perfect day, absolutely nothing. Pollen smiled and pressed his nose up against the glass eagerly. He imagined that he was feeling the same joy kids did when they went to Disney Land for the first time. It erupted was the best day of is freaking life.
Emptiness. Hazel eyes watched the people all around him as they waited for the train to come to a screeching halt so that they could go home. However, his purpose for waiting was different. Perched upon above the train tracks, he saw himself waiting to be thrown into it. There was no fear; there was no sense of remorse. His parents had been refugees who fled Bosnia so they were use to death. The senselessness of it was just so profound that he left him empty inside. Perhaps if Spencer would ever found his purpose then he'd reconsider offing himself but as of now that seemed unlikely.
Lighting up a cigarette he closed his eyes. He could hear the whistle come warning that the train was screeching to a halt. So he stood up and slowly walked his way to the edge of the train. [i "it'll finally be over.."] he mused to no one but himself. He was ready; he thought he was ready. Suddenly a pain shot through his chest and he gasps stepping back. The sensation of drowning came over him; he he started to gulp for air but none would come. Trembling hands tried to calm himself but it was futile. That monstrosity of known as anxiety had come for him. Crawling and gnawing and sucking the breath from his lips; he sat on the ground till the train came and it was the screeching of the which woke him up. Pink locks fail into his hair and he cursed his own weakness.
Standing upwards he moved towards the train and realize that the inside reflected his soul. It was empty and void to. Searching the faces, he saw one man pressing his face up against the glass and the male decided to sit closer to him. "Hey.." He drawled. Spencer was ashamed that his will of self-preservation kicked him saving his life despite him so desperately wanting out of this hell hole. After all he was already a disgrace to his family. Sitting across the man he leaned back and huffed silently. "Why is suicide so hard?"
Silence. His beloved silence was broken almost too soon. He barely had time to relish in the small chance that he could be spending a large portion of his journey alone. That tiny glimmer of hope he so badly wanted to hold on to was nothing more than a nonsensical dream. Pollen let his face detach from the window and gave a good long stare to the boy in pink. He smelled of stale cigarettes and his eyes appeared to not have slept in weeks.
It wasn’t like he was trying to judge the strange male, but his curiosity pulled as he wondered why he would sit near him when half the train was lined with empty seats. Possibly another reason he didn’t care to exist, too many people. Living in a world surrounded by constant noise proved much too exhausting for his already much too crowded brain. Sometimes he thought that the entire population of Russia was settled there. Pollen let his judgement subside momentarily and offered his hand, unsure of what the male was whispering on about under his breath. [#cc00cc “Hey, not sure if you were aware but the entire train is pretty empty.”] He let out a dry laugh and tried to force a reassuring smile. [i It wasn’t necessarily being rude to share knowledge, was it?] Surely the male just didn’t notice the deserted train and only needed a little help as to where he could sit. [#cc00cc “You can sit anywhere you’d like, so you know.” ]
He shifted his chestnut eyes slightly to the stained carpet along the cart’s floor, waiting for a response. It was better to arrive alone to your own funeral. Friends, relationships, human connections, it was all pointless to him. In the end they would all cease to exist, so why was forming them such a dire part of society? Whatever the reasoning he didn’t want to get caught up in things that could potentially negatively impact his timeframe.
The extension of a hand and the sound of a voice echoed within the emptiness of the male. Perhaps, this, this was all which was needed to bring him back from the edge. However such a thing was doubtful to him. Lifting up melancholy eyes he paid attention to the voice which informed him of the vast emptiness. It was a point he himself could observed. Plastic vacant chairs stretched seemingly on for eons. No denizens inhabited them and on this cart only the two of these lonely souls were together. Shifting from one side to another, Spencer tried to find his voice. Often times the bout of anxiety left him breathless. it was all to much for him; living in fear of the next panic attack not knowing when or how he'd be liberated from it. So he inhaled before exhaling and leaned forward.
"Yea, well... I didn't notice you." He retorted back. For some odd reason he felt defensive. As if he needed to justify why he'd found himself here in this particular moment. Ironic since he was so close to wanting to die. Yet, here he was fighting to justify his existence to an unknown stranger with whom he'd never met and would probably never see again. "You introducing yourself to me?"
He jester towards the outstretched hand as if he were a lifeline for him. There's no meaning to the world around them so he didn't feel as though he was worthy of reaching out for that hand. However if it was there then fuck it. Taking the hand in his own he spoke up "Spencer.. Spencer Maric.."
It was a firm shake, stronger than he imagined it would be. He dropped his hand after a few seconds and settled back into his seat. It seemed clear that the man didn’t intend to move, and the troubling situation would just have to be dealt with in a different way. He seemed agitated, anxious, and quite troublesome. Maybe the man just needed a little conversation because his spirits were bruised. [#ff0066 “Pleasure to meet you, Spencer. I’m Pollen.”]
A sharp jerk startled him before sheer joy erupted. The train began to slowly take off down the tracks, sending a slight vibration through the cabin. Pollen could hardly contain himself as the realization began to set in. He was really doing this; he was really taking control. It was time for the funeral and the train was his personal hurse. Any doubts that ever found their way into his mind were instantly eradicated by the sudden movement.
He kept his gaze set on Spencer, growing a bit more curious. It was possible that Spencer would be the last person he would ever talk to. That would be a fantastic reality for him, but he figured he should at least try and peel some layers during the wait. It wasn’t like he had a destination, just silly rules he planned along the way. He would know when the time and place was right, and that was all that really [i mattered.] Some stranger on a train had no chance of interfering with that.
[i God, I hate myself.]
[#ff0066 “So, where are you headed then? Visiting family back home or something like that for the summer?” ] Small talk wasn’t really his expertise though it was better than mentioning the weather. He didn’t even want to engage in conversation, but the man invaded his space.
Pollen? Of all the names which Spencer had heard, that one took the cake for being the most original. As the Bosnian shifted in his seat and after that brief human contact he closed his eyes before opening them. Sure, he'd been the one to retort back and been on the defense as to why he was here; but he hadn't exactly expect it to lead anywhere. Now here the stranger was trying to pry into his own personal life. He didn't know whether to be mad or relieved that his existence was being validated. Perhaps-deep down-that's what he truly wanted out in life? Validation.
As the male started his interrogation, Spencer averted his eyes before speaking up softly. "I'.. I.. was actually hoping to be on my way to hell right now..." He spoke as he suddenly started to speak. Why was he nervous to talk to a stranger? Afterall, it wasn't as though he were a catholic priest which would judge him despite claiming not to. Maric was well aware of the hypocrisy of the religious orders, Yet, as the words came spewing out he couldn't quite stop himself.
"I... wanted to jump on the train tracks and kill myself by this train. But, my anxiety made it impossible for me to go through with it." As he spoke those words he sighed his eyes looking down aware from him. "I have anxiety disorder... It ruins my life honestly.. I... hate it.."
Anxiety. Pollen shifted in his seat as he listened to the boy speak. It was the exact opposite of what he assumed would come out of Spencer’s mouth, and it delighted him. Finally, he came across someone who understood even a little bit of what he wanted out of life. It was curious how he could end up on the exact same train as someone else who shared his interest, almost too curious.
He met Spencer’s gaze for a moment before directing his sight back to the window. If the boy really wanted to die on the tracks, he could help him. They could make a suicide pact and ensure that each follows up on the wish. “Anxiety…how many drugs did they try?” The question caused a smile to form on his lips and he quickly tried to hide it with the sleeve of his jacket. He knew all too well about the crippling disease. “I’m trying to make it to hell too. I was hoping this train would take me there…”
He could tell by the way Spencer spoke and carried himself that he was suffering. He was holding onto a pointless existence only to obey the ‘status quo’. He wanted to help him, wanted to give him the courage he needed. In that moment Pollen knew he was on the train for more than one reason. He was there to give guidance, the very thing he never received.
The first question the male expected. People were always curious about the clinically insane. This morbid fascination never ceased to disgust the male. However, the second one caught him off guard. He’d always been told that everyone died alone. Death was-afterall-the opposite of life. When one is born they’re surrounded by warmth and love and affection. But with death, most die alone, cold and forgotten in their final moments. For some odd reason the male’s face lit up abit as he considered the aspect of something new. An alternative to which he’d finally been shown by this stranger.
Lifting his eyes towards his the male-perhaps soon to be partner-he spoke up softly. “Fifty milligrams of zoloft. That’s… the only drug that they gave me. It treats my suppose depression but I’m not depression. Im.. anxious and you would be to if you were a son of fuckin immigrants. Everyday they tell me about fleeing from war torn Bosnia. About how-lucky I am to be alive. How I can’t waste my life being like these lazy Americans. We don’t have the luxury to be lazy. It’s to fuckin’ much. I don’t give a shit about Bosnia or what happen in the 90s. The bosnia genocide has fuck all to do with me!”
As Spencer spoke his ears flushed and he sat back. In truth, that wasn’t necessarily true. He had been born in Bosnia, right in the middle of the genocide. His family had barely made it out but he’d lost grandparents and uncles to the Serbian army. And his cousin, Natalie, was the product of rape when a Serbian soldier forced himself onto his father’s sister. She was only 14 when it happen. Everyday, everything was made to remind him of the pressures of living up to an impossibly high expectations brought about because his family were immigrants in America. Despite being white and European, his life was hell. Total and utter hell.
Pollen couldn’t relate to the story the boy gave. It must have been hard to grow up in a war-torn country. Or at least be the direct descendent of the time. It was something his own privilege couldn’t possibly let him understand. He had grown up in a wealthy white family in the middle of a white suburban neighborhood. Everything he could have ever wanted was at the reach of his fingertips. Except for his desire to die.
He shifted in his seat as his smile quickly faded. It didn’t really matter to him why the boy wanted to die, just that he wanted to-and he had every right to.
[#6600cc “You’re right.”] He cocked his head to the side. [#6600cc “I like you kid. You seem rather spunky and rebellious.” ] He seemed to possess a lot of anger but also the intuition to know how to handle it. Before the encounter Pollen could have never imagined going off with someone else to complete the deed. It seemed ludicrous to involve anyone else because they would likely only try to [i save] him. This boy, however, was the perfect addition to his ending.
The train jerked suddenly as it changed onto a different set of tracks and Pollen let his eyes grab onto the window curious. He didn’t know where they were but suspected they had traveled about an hour. The trees blended and he couldn’t make out much but a vast countryside. Maybe by the next day he would get off at the perfect place.
[#6600cc “Whatever your reasoning may be, I’m sure it’s legitimate. Don’t worry, we are going to get this done, alright? You defiantly boarded the [i right] train.” ] The confidence oozed off of him as his smile reappeared for his new friend.
This. This was all that Spencer ever needed and wanted in life. A friend to help reassure him that things in life were going to be alright. That he wasn’t some constant fuck up that couldn’t live up to expectations of refugees. As the train continued to move forward towards the destination which was unknown to both of them the Bosnian boy took refuge in the fact that all would be okay and that this stranger turned friend who help him out of this life that he had found himself so desperately trapped in.
As the train continued to to lead them forward out towards the country side the male settled into his seat and closed his eyes. This, this was his first time taking a train over night and he wasn’t entirely sure where their destination would be. Only that there were both seeking out the same thing which., Was the end of everything. Most people were scared of the never ending darkness which came with death. The deeper the void the more the fear seemingly consumed them. But for Spencer he wasn’t afraid of his inevitable demise at all. He was more then prepared to meet his maker; he was more then prepared to see if God truly was a merciful as everyone had always told him he was.
“Do you believe that its true, Suiciders go to hell? Or do you think God’ll make an exception in our cases?”
Spencer was just thinking outloud. Right now he was wishing he had a cigarette to smoke but he didnt see an ash tray on the train, Neither did he see a smoke detector. So now there was the question of whether or not he would-fuck it.. Pulling out a cigarette he offered one to his friend before lighting up. He would be gone soon so life and its consequences didn’t matter anymore. There was hope in that.
Suicide; 1a : the act or an instance of taking one's own life voluntarily and intentionally. b : ruin of one's own interests political suicide. c : apoptosis cell suicide. [i -Webster Dictionary]
Pollen pondered on the question for a moment, intrigued by the conversation unfolding. “[b I don’t believe in heaven nor hell. I believe once we leave this world, that’s it. We become nothing but a memory that will soon cease to exist. Isn’t that bloody wonderful?”] In the unfortunate event that hell did exist, they were ultimately doomed according to the rigorous bible studies he attended as a child. Hopefully it was nothing but an overly translated book written by narcissists.
He shifted in his seat slightly and reached out his hand to take the cigarette. He had never smoked on a public train though the thrill made him wish he had the idea. The kid before him seemed like a rebel, rule-breaker, and even a non-conformist. All the pieces that fit perfectly for a story of destruction. They had hours to go through the night before a stop, so he might as well pry.
The air filled with the sweet aroma of cigarettes, and Pollen quickly lit his own. “So, tell me, since we are asking personal questions, how do you intend to take your life? I remember earlier that you wanted to be run over by a train. It’s not the worst idea because of the quick death however if you have anxiety, we may need to find you a better option…you know one with a definite outcome.”
He crossed one leg over the other feeling a bit mighty in the man’s presence. It wasn’t every day that you met someone so like you after all. “What do you think about jumping off a bridge? I could push you if you get anxious.” The words seemed to dance out of his mouth with confidence as he stared across the way at Spencer. There was something about the man that made him feel comfortable, and he wanted more of it. [center [pic https://i.postimg.cc/yYMj5hJP/imageedit-2-3838888365.gif]]
"Slobodan Praljak;" Spencer's words came out softly as he looked at the male who was smoking a cigarette in front of him. To the American, that name probably meant nothing. But to his family it meant something to them. But being as Spencer didn’t really got involved with politics he was only partially away that the man killed himself by drinking poison. It was a way many people went. Socrates, Nero, the list was endless to the people who chose to kill themselves by taking one final deadly cocktail. “That man was accused of war crimes and drank poison on national Television after his sentence was announced. Jumping off a bridge does sound easy, but there've been plenty of people that survived with broken bones.. I think making a special cocktail of alcohol and pills would be nice.’
“If we added some juice we couldn’t even tell if it’s deadly. It’d be like falling asleep.” In times past, whenever Spencer talked aloud about meeting his own demise that dreaded anxiety would kick in and make him feel anxious and nervous. But in the presence of this handsome stranger it didn’t seem so bad. Though, he did frown a bit when he mention how he believed that after death they was nothing but just lights out. A shame.
“And you? How did you imagine killing yourself?” Silly Spencer. He’d been so busy talking that he’d forgotten to light his own cigarette. A thing which he’d correct right now. Lighting up his cigarette he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of it taking hold of him and calming his nerves. It was a rather wonderful feeling, one which the male couldn’t even deny. It filled him with absolutely bliss.
It seemed exciting though he had never thought about drinking poison. The overall idea seemed nice because of the control factor and the absolute ending. If you ensured that the cocktail was deadly enough the plan was undeniably fruitful. “Can’t say I know anything about the man although his choice in death was quite exciting, no? I bet the shock on everyone’s faces was just…” He let his words trail off as the immediate need for another drag of the cigarette took over him. He inhaled slowly before exhaling to the left of him. The smoke in the room was swirling above the ceiling creating a firm layer of smog throughout their empty cabin. “I have always had a bit of an obsession with hangings. If that is my demise then I defiantly plan on using the ‘drop effect’ so the break is immediate. I wouldn’t want to give anyone a chance to get me down or break the fall. My second option is simply walking into traffic.” He kept his eyes focused on Spencer growing more and more intrigued by their conversation. No one had ever asked him [i how he wanted to do it]. They only wanted to know why and what they could do to help.
The sound of the metal door sliding open immediately spiked his adrenaline. Two men wearing matching blue uniforms began to walk down the narrow aisle, finally stopping in front of the two delinquents. Pollen felt his heartbeat rise as his attention broke from the boy. It was a shame since they were just getting to know one another.
“[b All of our trains, thru-way buses, and stations are smoke-free.”] The taller of the two enforcers held out his hand revealing a tiny black ashtray in his hand. “[b Consider this your one and only warning, gentleman. If we detect smoke again, we will be forced to take further action and press charges as well as discontinue your ride.”]
For the sake of getting the men to leave he reluctantly handed over his unfinished cigarette and put it out in the container hoping Spencer would do the same.
Ah! While some would find this topic to be somewhat on the morbid side of things, Spencer found it to be peaceful. Taking fate into one's hands and discussing their own demise was a beautiful topic which put the normally nervous male at ease. Hanging was an age old method for ending life as well. But it came with some flaws; however the male seemed to acknowledge it and have a way to make sure that there would be no coming back from the brink of death.
Finishing up his cigarette, Spencer exhaled the last bit of smoke before seeing the door bust open and watching men coming towards them. In an instant, Spencer wanted to light up another spark in defiance and smirk as they tried to kick him off the train. But then, what good would that do them? Afterall, it was well close to 1 am in the morning. If it were the weekend sure places would be open, but on a weekday like this? Not likely. So the male relented and put smoked up cigarette in the ashtray and offered an apology.
As the men left the two boys alone, Spencer closed his eyes before [i “Walking out in traffic hun? I that’s another surefire way for you to get the job done..”] His voice came out slowly as he thought about how many had chosen to go out that way. It wasn’t a bad way. [i “How about we continue this convo in the morning, I’m getting a little bit sleepy.. Just a little bit.”] He spoke offering an apologetic sigh. The train was like a lullabye lulling him to sleep.
Perhaps it would be their final sleep. Pollen didn’t know when everything would end, he just knew it had to be soon. If this was to be his last sleep, then he would surely make it a good one. He moved up the arm rest on the chair next to him and folded his legs over into the empty seat. The cushions smelled of fish and expired eggs but he didn’t mind. He was just happy to be in the comfort of someone just as damaged as him.
Before settling in he gave a light nod to Spencer and reached up to dim the light above his row. The rockiness of the train didn’t bother him one bit as he laid facing the window. If anything, it was soothing like listening to the ocean on a breezy night. As the seconds turned to minutes, he quickly faded into dreamland.
“Name and cause of death, please.” A stocky shadowy figure stood before Pollen with a clipboard in his hand. The details of the surroundings were foggy as he could only make out a faded sign in the background reading, ‘Hell’s Pass’. “Uhm Pollen, Suicide.” Pollen stood awkwardly as the man checked over his clipboard. “Floor thirty-six.” The man said nothing more and ushered Pollen through the line. In the time he was waiting he didn’t notice the line that formed behind him. At least a dozen people were waiting as the stocky man took his time reading over whatever was written.
As he made his way closer to the sign, he could make out the words underneath. ‘No Exit’. “This is it.” He breathed out knowing that he was dead. It didn’t matter what sort of afterlife he was in-he had finally gone through with his promise.
The rising sun broke his dream and he reluctantly peeled open his eyes, finding that it was morning. He gave a light yawn and stretched out his arms above his head before turning his attention to the sleeping Spencer. Maybe they were having a similar dream.
Sleep. Instead of it coming to the male there was nothing but and an endless depths of darkness. An eternal abyss engulfing everything which he was and everything that he'd ever been. But there was not fear or even fight when it came to darkness. If anything, the male found it comforting and a restful. His entire being was wrapped soundly in the warmth which that depths of the void provided and it made him even more inclined to get on with what they'd planned on doing. Imagine finally being free from this anxiety. It would be a blessing, something he'd forever be grateful for.
As those pink locks fell into his eyes they did nothing to shield him from the encroaching sunlight. For a moment he'd forgotten that the pair were on a train leading to the depths of nowhere. A train ride which was bound to take the to the other side of the country.
A city, that's where the train was heading to. A very popular city which had a bridge which was known for people jumping off of. Just the other week, Spencer had seen on the news that a man whom lost his job had jumped of the bridge. The one good thing about this city was that it offered a plethora of ways to died. And with the Captain announcing that they would be there within the next 30 hours Spencer was happily ready to meet his faith. Only 30 more hours to live.
Pollen awoke to the harsh rays of sun peeking through the dusty blinds of the train car. He didn’t particularly want to wake up though the choice wasn’t in his hands. Slowly, he began to move around in his chair and adjust himself so he was in an upright position. He wiped the dust from his face and listened as the speaker announced the next day’s destinations.
It was time to rip the band aid off and get the task over with. The excitement was evident, he had now found a colleague who wished to share the same fate, and they were so close. As the announcement went silent, Pollen turned his attention to his new pink-haired friend. The suffering was still crystal clear in every aspect of the boy’s demeanor. He looked cold to the touch, already a walking corpse. Sleep didn’t even take away from the dark shadows eating away at his face.
“I’m ready too.”
The words carried hope more than anything. Hope, that they would only have to endure one more night with the living. Hope that the light they so helplessly wanted was at the end of the tunnel. “Let’s get off in the next big city.” The train suddenly jerked to the right and began to slow its pace rapidly. The lights in the cabin began to flicker in and out and it almost felt like he was in a slow-motion roller coaster. Pollen turned around in his seat and peered out the window. A howling fire was burning the surrounding area around the tracks, rising to the size of the trees it swallowed. It was hard to tell from the view if it had made its way onto their train but by the look of the electrical system blinking in an out, the answer seemed clear. With thoughts buzzing, the power flickered out and the cabin went dark. The smell of smoke quickly filled his nose as he grasped the line to the blinds. He gave it a pull, releasing the bright red and orange light. The fire pressed against the window, eagerly wanting to dance. [i Was it time to dance? ]
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