Page 59 of Unmasking Mayhem (Behind the Mask Duet #2)

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 they already 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.

My grip tightens around the gun, and the roar of silence crescendos, pushing me deeper into my thoughts.

I envision the gunshot piercing the stillness of the night, envision the shock on their faces—the understanding that I chose to leave them behind without a word.

I can see the devastation spread across their eyes and can almost hear the anguished cries echoing through the hollow spaces where once laughter thrived.

I lie here, staring at the pistol in my hand, the cold metal feeling foreign yet achingly familiar. The night's moonlight filters through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the floor, and in that bright glow, memories of Whitney and Raze swirl around me, bittersweet and haunting.

Whitney’s laughter haunts me in the silence.

It’s always been like a melody, bright and vibrant, cutting through the thick fog of despair that has settled in my mind for far too long.

I can see her, her curly hair bouncing with every step, the spark in her eye that made the mundane feel like an adventure.

Then there’s Raze—my anchor, my brother in arms. We shared dreams under starlit skies, talking about everything and nothing, the good times rolling like the waves we used to surf together.

And now? Now both of them are lost to me, drifting away on the dark sea of my spiraling thoughts.

I love them fiercely, yet somehow, I feel more like a burden than a beacon.

It's like I have this thick glass wall between us, a barrier made of guilt and shame.

Every time I reach out, it feels like I'm just too far away to matter. I don’t want them to watch me drown.

Days fade into a blurry montage of despair, punctuated only by fleeting moments of brightness that are soon overshadowed by the weight I carry.

I’m a ghost of myself, haunting the memories of who I used to be.

I’ve tried to fight; God knows I’ve fucking tried.

But no amount of therapy or medication seems to dull the ache.

It’s always there, a constant thrum, drowning out any light that flickers in my heart.

I grip the gun tighter, my hands shaking not just from fear but from the realization that I completely, utterly feel like I’ve lost the will to fight.

I can’t bear the thought of dragging Whitney and Raze down with me any longer.

The thought of their tears, their disappointment—it cuts deeper than the shame I’ve been feeling.

They deserve better. I close my eyes, imagining Whitney's soft voice urging me to hold on just a little longer, and I want to; I really do. But the darkness is so thick, so suffocating, that it feels like I’m already fucking drowning.

The weight in my chest feels heavier than the world I’m leaving behind. The shadows stretching across the room, pooling like the dark thoughts that never seem to lift. I can hear the muffled hum of the city, but it all feels so far away. It’s like watching a movie I’m no longer a part of.

Whitney’s laughter continues to echo in my mind, bright and crystalline.

I used to chase her joy like a moth to a flame, believing somehow her light would illuminate the darkness that clings to me.

But now, even the warm memories are tainted with hues of remorse.

I see her face—her gentle eyes filled with concern when I can’t mask the despair anymore.

I’ve tried to fight, to claw my way back to the surface, but every time I break through, I slip back into this abyss.

Raze, too—his friendship has been a lifeline, but even he can’t pull me from the depths I’ve sunk into.

I’ve become a burden, and I can’t bear to drag them down with me any longer.

The gun lies cold and heavy. I stare at it, the polished metal glinting ominously in the fading light.

For weeks, I’ve thought about the moment I would finally let go—nights spent wrestling with my mind, trapped in the cage of anxieties and fleeting memories.

No more pain, I tell myself. No more pretending I’m okay when I’m anything but.

I remember the day Whitney first kissed me, her lips soft against mine, full of warmth and life.

We were idiots wrapped up in each other, living in our own little world.

And Raze, with his infectious passion for riding and his ability to breathe life into the mundane—he was everything I admired.

God, how I wanted to be enough for them.

But I’ve failed at every turn, hollowed out by a struggle that feels endless, leaving only echoes of sorrow in my wake.

Tears threaten to spill as I hear Whitney’s whispered words from the last time we were together.

“Hawk, please don’t shut me out. I love you.”

Love .

I never wanted to wound them with my choice, but here I am, ready to render myself silent, to sever the ties that bind.

They’ll grieve, but grief will mend—time will teach them to forget the man I’ve become.

I close my eyes, the gun still resting in my hand.

What would it take to paint over this darkness?

A moment of peace? A release? I think of their faces one last time, a heartbreaking picture of love interlaced with despair.

I don’t want to hurt them further, but I can’t bear the thought of dragging them down into the fucking void with me.

I can’t let them try to save me when I’ve already chosen to lose myself.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my ears, an avalanche of memories cascading down like a roaring river.

And in this moment, for the first time in so long, I feel a flicker of clarity amidst the chaos.

I won’t have to fight anymore. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, letting the tears flow freely now, a final farewell to the world that has become so unbearably dark.

The last image I hold onto is Whitney smiling, Raze watching her with a cigarette tucked between his lips, and light spilling around them.

Then, the world fades into a silence, heavy yet somehow freeing.

I’m ready to step away, to let go, and as I drift into that abyss, I wonder if they’ll remember me as I was, before the demons became too much.

Putting the gun under my chin, I embrace the darkness and pull the trigger, a final breath escaping my lips, the weight falling away, heartbroken yet strangely serene.