Opening his eyes. White engulfed his vision.
Breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, Riley inhaled through his nose, the sensation of oxygen and a rising chest filling his heart with joy.
Then, off to his side, he saw a girl. A very pretty girl, with tied back, messy black hair. Her outfit was cutesy. She had a cute necklace.
Wait… Is that…?
Blinking repeatedly, Riley looked up to see Nina.
His suspicions confirmed, he saw Nina looking at him. Looking down, he saw her gently holding his hand, whilst he recalled her words.
"—Be safe, alright?"
Yet, he had instead gone and attempted—
"Ughh," he spat, slowly sitting up. "Kara, where—where's Kara?"
"She's fine. You two were rescued—and Riley, you…" she barely managed to get out, her voice shattering.
With tears in her eyes, Nina tried to wipe them. With her fingers, the unceasing tears needed her palm. Her palm was not enough, she needed her wrists.
"Why…?" Nina asked.
She did not say anything more.
…
"If it were not for me, you two would immediately be placed in a different kind of hospital."
The rumbling car. Seeing flashes of buildings as they drove, Riley looked out of the window, his cheek resting on his palm.
Being spoken to inside his head, he felt silent gratitude for not being sent away. Yet, even still, the car ride was awkward.
Because Kara didn't have any remaining family, and she wasn't considered a suspect in her brother's disappearance due to Ghira's influence, she was taken home with Riley, being allowed to stay at their place for a bit due to his parent's kindness.
Riley glanced over at her, seeing her laying limp in the seat. She did not look out the window, she did not close her eyes. Laying there, hands by her lap, her pale face stared forward blankly.
Riley couldn't help but resonate.
I failed.
I wanted to die, yet I lived. Every time I want to die, I am forced to live.
And now… I don't feel anything about it. I can't be angry, or happy, or sad or… or anything, really. It happened.
Tired, I guess. An irritation. It all just feels like one big irritation.
Remembering the pathetic flailing of his limbs as he helplessly drowned, submerged in an abyss without allowing him to breathe, Riley winced.
The memory having been ingrained in his mind, body, heart and soul—Riley feared it. That horrible sensation of drowning, of being without oxygen as each part of his body cried out for it.
The gagging, the vomiting, the sensation of icy waters filling his lungs as he could not tell apart his up, down, left and right.
It was horrifying. It was ugly.
He did not want to experience it again.
Arriving home, Riley got out of the car and put his hands in his pockets.
"Riley…" his mom weakly asked, "we need to talk."
A soft sigh escaping his nostrils, Riley nodded his head. As he passed by the glass along the windows, he looked at his reflection. His eyes. His lips. Everything about his expression seemed blank and tired.
—
He'd spent an hour talking with his family.
They went through his room, searched his belongings, and took every sharp object they could find.
The talking itself wasn't exactly anything which might be considered a "breakthrough." They found out everything they needed to know when they first got the call that his son was at a hospital after a suspected attempt.
Really, all it felt like to Riley was—
It's just a mess.
Sitting down on his bed, asking for just five minutes of alone time, Riley hugged one knee to his chest, looking down at the ground.
It was easier when they didn't know. Now, they look at me with such sad eyes… It hurts.
But whatever. It's whatever.
I don't particularly care.
Everything was so messy all of a sudden. His past few days had been completely submerged in darkness. From the call of Ghira, to the many times fighting, to the questioning by the police and failed heroics—all leading up to a failed attempt.
It's just a mess. Now, everything's gotten worse. I don't know if I can sink any further—this has to be the bottom.
Laying down, Riley stared up at the white ceiling.
What does it even mean anyways? I probably should have died there. Even if it was painful, wouldn't it have just been better?
…But, I guess Nina would have cried even harder if I'd actually died.
His breath being stolen, Riley felt a pain in his heart. A physical sensation of discomfort and tightness.
Whatever. I just don't care. It doesn't matter.
Then, hearing the doorbell, Riley sat up gently. Hearing a quick "knockknockknock," Riley immediately figured who it was. He heard the front door open, followed by quick footsteps to his bedroom.
Using [Hanging] to open the door for him, Riley heard its soft creak before—
"Riley…!"
Her voice breaking, Nina quickly closed the door, walking over to Riley's bed and sitting down on it, looking at him with tears.
His gaze turned away from the shame, the boy dug his thumb's nail—no, he clawed. Scratching his arm slowly, Riley remained blank-faced.
"Why? Why did you—that doesn't… Why? Why didn't you tell me?"
"...I dunno."
Simply put, it was easier to go through with it when you didn't have to worry about those around you feeling like they didn't try hard enough.
If they had missed signs, there could be relief. But Riley didn't think his loved ones would forgive themselves if they had known the truth and did not do anything about it.
—No matter how many times he heard "I'm here for you if you want to talk," Riley was not the kind of person who would ever accept such an offer.
It ran deeply, inherently, against himself. To take up such an offer—even he didn't know why it was so difficult. Even if he dreamed and fantasized about moments when he did accept their gift, he knew that he would never truly do it.
"That's…" Nina softly spoke.
It was an absurdity to her. Always on the lookout for others, she had effortlessly dedicated herself to being kind and helpful to those around her, even if it hurt her. Riley himself admired that trait beyond belief.
Yet, for her closest friend, someone she'd known since childhood—to be unable to help him when she had wished to help him the most—it was excruciating.
That's why,
"Riley, I…I love you."
His body flinching in response to those words, Riley turned around, finally looking at her.
"...W-what did you just… say?"
"I care about you, you know," she weakly continued. "We all do. Me, your parents, Joey—everyone else. We all care about you—so… so, I don't understand…"
"I know," Riley said, sitting up, looking her eye to eye. "I… I know that. Better than anyone, better than you could imagine, better… I know. I know you love me, I know you all care about me, I know all of that."
"Then, even knowing that, why did you still try it? We were lucky to even see you here today—so why, why, whywhy, I don't—hk, I don't… I don't understand it."
"I…"
He had known. Better than anyone, in fact.
Yet, he still went through with it. Of course, their love wasn't meaningless—if they had not loved him, he would've likely been dead before his 10th birthday.
—This was, put simply, a lifelong struggle.
Even at a young age, he had wanted to die. As he grew up, and the world became bigger and more complex, more difficult to navigate and more uncertain—so too had his desire for an escape from it all.
"I'm… weak," Riley muttered. Speaking the truth for the first time—saying something he'd not expected to say, Riley had inadvertently groaned.
"What?"
"I mean…" he said, continuing to spill out his weaknesses uncontrollably, "just… look at me. I mean, seriously…!"
A soft laugh escaping his lips as his cold eyes looked away, Riley clawed at his forearm.
"You know me," Riley began. "I'm weak. Every time… every time I've ever tried to do anything with my life, it's gone up in flames. If I ever try to speak, I stammer. If I ever try to help, I make things worse. If I ever try to answer, I lie—! So, then… w-was there really even an escape… other than by dying?"
Riley had once considered the term "Suicide is a habit."
Taking inspiration from Hercule Poirot's "Murder is a habit," Riley Woods had applied that to suicide.
Not meaning that those with suicidal thoughts will continue trying until they "get it right," it instead refers to the many weeks, months, and years it takes to actually build up to the action.
The hours spent wishing for a solution to a problem plaguing them, whether it be external or internal; the hours spent wondering what the reaction of their loved ones would be like; the hours spent wondering whether their life is even worth continuing—this was the habitual thought process Riley had considered.
—And, in the end, once someone had considered suicide deeply enough, the phrase could evolve into "Suicide is the only answer."
The final lie built upon the foundation of days, weeks, months, years of lies and half-truths.
"But, even still… even if you say that about yourself—I won't believe that," Nina declared. "Riley… I do know you. I know you're awkward, I know… I know you're not the best at a lot of things. Your grades suck, you're not the most athletic, you're not exactly a hardworking or talented person."
"—Hk."
"Yet, even if you're like that—I have never known you as a quitter. You'll take breaks, you'll groan and complain and fall into a slump. Yet, time and time again… you've gotten out. Even if you're not good at many things… no, even if you're not good at anything, you are still loved. It's easy to die, it takes strength to live—"
"—I… I. Know. That."
Scowling, Riley got to his feet. Looking down at the sitting Nina, he clenched his fists.
"Does anyone, and I mean anyone in this entire world know that it takes strength to live—better than I do? I know it takes strength to live—that's the reason I wanted to die in the first place! Strength, weakness, those two things determine one's ability to live in this world!"
His balled up fists, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, moved up to his chest. Clutching his shirt, Riley held his hand over his heart, with tears streaming down his face.
"I have no strengths, there's nothing I'm good at. Everything about me… it's weakness, isn't it? My evil, my powerlessness, my incompetency, my inability to function as a normal human being—it's all weakness. My weakness."
"..."
"If I was more like you, then yes, I'd have a life worth living. If I was kinder to people, if I was stronger, if I was more pure—if I wasn't myself, everything would be better."
"Riley."
Wiping her face of sorrow, Nina sniffled and got out of the bed. Walking over to him, Riley backed away, gulping.
"W-what are you…"
"Listen. No matter what you say about yourself. No matter what you claim you are. No matter what you believe or don't believe."
"Huh?"
Extending her hand, Nina looked at him head-on, her eyes resolved with determination.
"I will never stop reaching my hand out. I'm not perfect. I don't know what to say—even now, I don't quite get it, I don't quite understand or know how to fix your problems. Because you're right—you do have weaknesses. But that's okay."
Inhaling, exhaling, she steadied herself.
"Because, even if you have your incompetencies, I won't stop reaching my hand out towards you. Even if you give up on yourself, I won't give up on you. I'll be here. I'll wait. I'll listen."
"Why are…"
His vision blurry, Riley's throat tightened. The pain in his arm subsiding, his nails no longer pressed into himself, Riley was utterly confused.
"Why? Why would you—that doesn't make sense. Even if you say that… I'm still weak. Even if you don't think so… everyone would be better off without me. I'm a nuisance, I'm a burden who doesn't contribute or help anyone…"
"You don't need to help me. I'm your friend because I like you. I'm your friend because I think you're fun to be around. I'm your friend because I want to be, not because you contribute."
"...Yet, that doesn't fix anything. I'm still… myself."
"Then that's fine. This here—it doesn't need to fix anything. All I want… really, I want out of this," Nina began, sniffling.
"I just want you to know that there are other options."
Silenced by her words, Riley Woods gently looked down.
Struggling. It was difficult to believe her words.
Suicide itself had been the default escape for him, even since he was young.
The lifetime he'd spent considering it had made it even easier to believe that it really was his only option—that he was born to die.
Yet, to be told that there were other options—it was absurd, hard to believe after having been shown otherwise, time and time again.
Even still.
Sniffling. Riley let go of his body, his hands weakly falling to his side.
"Fine. Just… just for a little bit."
"...Then, that's all I need."
Hugging him, Nina wrapped her arms around him. In such close proximity, he felt weak in his knees.
Just for a day. Just for one more day.
I'll probably stay weak. But for now.
Just…
Just for now.