Page 82 of Unmasking Mayhem


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Fuck, that hurt. It feels like I got stabbed in the chest, and I can't breathe. Biting back sobs, I walk by her, staring at her for the last time.

"I love you too, Whitney. Always and forever." I walk off to my room, staring at her until she's out of sight.

And then as I close my door, the tears fall like fucking Niagara Falls. Every part of my body aches; my heart is ripped into shreds. I make myself comfortable on my bed and lie down in the dark, lightning illuminating my room. I sigh, my body tingling as numbness completely takes over. I reach under my pillow and pull out my gun and the silencer, slowly screwing it on.

A wave of peace crashes over me, and the weight on my shoulders begins to feel lighter as I look up at the ceiling, gun in hand and my finger on the trigger. I'm no longer afraid of what's on the other side. I'm anxious to find out. Maybe in the next life I won't be so fucking depressed and broken. Maybe I won't be cursed with these illnesses that fucking ruined me. Is it brighter up there? Does it ever rain?

I take out a cigarette—my last one—and flick my lighter, putting the flame to the end of it. I savor the first inhale that cherries it, knowing I won't ever get that feeling again. My mind begins to wander again, and I let it. The smoke curls languidly upwards, mingling with the lingering echoes of silence and life just beyond my door. Each inhalation feels like a final farewell, the nicotine wrapping around my mind, coaxing my tangled thoughts into a bittersweet haze. I feel both at peace and utterly terrified of what's to come.

As I exhale, the room seems to materialize around me—a kaleidoscope of memories swirling like dust motes beneath the flickering light. I see Whitney, her laughter brightening my darkest moments as she twirled in the living room, joy spilling from her lips like music. I see Raze, the three of us lost in a swarm of love and obsession—the way the world felt unbreakable before chaos crashed down and tore us apart. But that was before. The world outside my door continues unaware, but within these four walls, I’m teetering on the brink of fucking eternity.

I admire the gun a moment longer, all the times I had Whitney fuck it or suck it, contemplating my next action with a clarity that feels almost surreal. This moment, this choice, is mine. No more pain, no more guilt, no more being a fucking burden. I can finally set them free from the shackles of my existence, from the ugly remnants of a life marred by darkness.

Beneath the peace, fear flickers like an old film reel. The what-ifs crowd my mind—what if I wait just a little longer? What if I reach out, push through this feeling, and finally let them in? The image of Whitney's hopeful gaze flashes before me, her belief in me so unwavering that it feels like a lifeline. Could her love actually be enough to pull me back from the edge? But the weight of despair drags me down into a dark abyss, one from which I no longer believe I'll emerge. Tears threaten to spill again, but I swallow hard, determination hardening within me.

“It’s too late,”I whisper to the stillness, the world around collapsing under the weight of my despair.

But just as I lift the gun, a knock on the door shatters the silence like a thunderclap. “Hawk? You in there?”

It’s Raze, his voice breaking through the fog of despair, pulling me back just a fraction. I wait—heart racing—not wanting to betray the gravity of the moment.

“I’m fine,” I manage to croak, determined to keep the world at bay, convinced that tonight is my ending.

“Hawk, this isn’t the time for silence. I know you’re struggling,” he says, the worry in his voice unmistakable. “Please let me in.”

“Just go back to fucking bed, Raze!” My voice cracks, the agony spilling forth in complete contradiction to my earlier resolve.

I’m pathetic, frail in my defenses as his concern seeps through the cracks. I don't want to make them worry any more than theyalready have been. He doesn’t give up, and dammit if it doesn’t set off a war within me.

“Talk to me. I can’t just stand out here and pretend everything’s okay.”

Something breaks inside me—perhaps it’s the raw honesty in his plea. I’m flooded with the emotion I’ve been trying to stifle, a swell of grief that threatens to engulf me in its tide.

“Hawk, please…” Raze’s voice trembles with urgency.

It pulls at me, wrapping itself around my heart and squeezing. The strength of his loyalty shatters my resolve, and all of my machine-like thoughts falter in the wake of the brotherhood that I’ve let slip away. Taking a shaky breath, I lower the gun.

“Alright…” I whisper, defeated but not broken. “Just give me a fucking minute.”

I place the gun back beneath the pillow, holding onto the weight of it, an intense reminder of how close I’d come to putting a bullet through my head. Slowly, I force myself to wipe the tears away, to take a deep breath, and to prepare for whatever comes next. During this moment of reprieve, where a thread of resilience lingers, I only want to hold onto that glimmer of hope for dear life, but it's so far out of reach.

I walk to the door and open it, seeing what he wants. He hugs me as I step out, making me confused. Raze isn't a hugger, so his hug is another reminder of how I'm going to fucking hurt them like hell. All of this affection and love is my karma for me about to do them dirty and take the coward's way out. Nobody knows how I feel. Nobody understands. I hug him back, feeling a little more weight lift off my shoulders, and I can finally take a deep breath. He pulls back, a tired smile curling on his lips.

"I'm fine, Raze. I'm just tired." I lie, just wanting him to go be with Whitney so she isn't alone. But the lie to my best friend still breaks my fucking heart.

"Just want to make sure." He smiles, clapping his hand against my back. "Love you, brother. I'm always here if you need me."

"I know, Raze. I know." I bite my tongue to keep my voice from cracking, trying not to break down. "I love you too, man."

He smiles and walks away, giving me what I wanted. So how come something inside me is screaming to not let him walk away because I know what's about to happen? But I let him go, knowing this needs to happen. Locking my door, I lay back down on my bed, pulling out my gun without hesitation.

But the pulse of inevitability seems to quicken, an unseen force urging me to press on with my original intent. I grip the cool metal tightly in my hand, the heaviness of it grounding me in the chaotic storm of emotions rattling under my skin. It’s time to choose, and the path ahead feels shrouded in fog, even as my heart races in its muted echo of despair.

What to expect on the other side? I close my eyes and think of Whitney’s laughter echoing through my memories, the way it brightens the darkest of moments—a beacon that has often felt out of reach amid all this turmoil. Her unwavering belief in me stands against the tide of hopelessness that has wrapped itself around my life like a vice. But the weight of it all presses down, reminding me that I’m treading water in an ocean of grief.

In a moment of silence, I’m torn between the pull of despair and the faint flicker of hope that’s been ignited by Raze’s unexpected warmth. What if staying meant more than battling through the flames of trauma? What if leaning into those connections could genuinely lead to healing, instead of succumbing to the darkness?

As if sensing this inner struggle, the voices creep back in, taunting me, reminding me of every failure, every pain, every moment that led me here. The fucking monster inside me is relentless, whispering that I’d never escape the cycle of hurt—I’ll forever remain trapped in the shadows, haunted by my past.