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It all came down to this. He'd researched and calculated and smuggled for this. Broke into the school for this. And now was the moment he worked so hard far.

As long as Don could remember he was suicidal. He just didn't care about anyone else, had no goals, no calling, no wishes. He honestly usualy didn't even care enough to die either. He did whatever he was told simply because he had nothing better to do, and he often did a half-assed job of it too.

Don was good at two things; Math and planning. He'd taken an interest in chemistry and medicine because he knew that he could learn in those classes just what dose of what drug he could take to end his miserable existance painlessly.

And now he had in his bedroom a superstrong home-made tranquilizer and a siringe. Allhe needed to do was take it and his heart would stop.

"Alright Donny, you can do this" he said to himself, and took deep breaths s if he were about to bunji-jump. He took a big gulp of whiskeyand made a face of disgust, then stabbed the needle into a vein and pushed the liquid down into his blood. In moments his vision darkened, his chest tightened and his muscles tensed. His stomach twisted and his throat constricted. He couldn't breathe, and tears were running down his face. His chest felt like it was on fire. He wanted to scream, to cry for help but no voice came out of his throat. He collapsed onto teh ground and sobbed helplessly, until finaly he fell unconsious, his heart stopped, and it was over.