This story has been editted due to morbid material.
[SPOILER - highlight to read]: The boy sat quietly in his room, back pressed firmly against the solid oak chair. All that could be heard was that of the soft rain gently rapping against the cold, narrow window.
The smell of a once burning candle lingered in the air. It smelled of sweet honey, so much so that you could nearly taste it. The bright lights that once illuminated the room now remain off. The warm, cotton rug touches his feet as he slowly moves them back and forth across it. Colorful images flash rapidly across the TV screen with unheard sounds.
He sat reflecting upon his life, wondering if somehow, by some chance, he neglected to see the importance of it. He hadn't, in all actually his life was similar to that of his worst nightmare. He had always promised himself that he would never lose respect for who he was or what he had done in his life. That had all changed now due to the horrid treatment and harassment he had experienced over the years. He now had a strong affinity for death.
The boy had an obstinate urge to end his life thus ending his futile attempt at fitting in. His pitiful self was but an insignificant speck on the face of the planet. In all of his time on this Earth he hadn't accomplished one thing of merit and he knew this, that's what brought him the greatest sense of worthlessness.
He knew he wouldn't be remembered after he died. He knew nobody would show up at his internment except his family, during which they would be thinking about what better, more important things they could be doing at that exact moment.
All of this stirred in his mind, that is, his troubling past, the terrible present, and a future he feared. He thought to himself and he could come to only one conclusion, his life must end. He stumbled to his feet and wandered down the dark hallway towards the bathroom.
Once there he walked over to the medicine cabinet, took a steel razor blade from inside and sat down. He took the razor, glistening in the pale white light of the room, and pressed it firmly against his wrist. He then took the razor and cut the cold, soft skin of his wrist open. The warm blood began to trickle down his arm to his elbow. From there it dripped onto the floor, forming a crimson colored puddle by his feet.
Several hours passed. The boy's parents returned home from a friends' house to find their son's limp, lifeless body slumped against the wall of the bathroom. There was something more disturbing then that sight alone though, it was the sight of a smile on their son's face that disturbed them the most. See the boy smiled because he had finally discovered that true and eternal peace could only be reached in death.