The Final Release #2
- “It’s not about stopping, Chance. It’s about understanding what’s really going on. What’s causing all of this. You’re not alone. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”
Chance shook his head, unable to meet his eyes. The weight of everything—of the pain, the guilt, the memories of Guest—felt too much to bear. The walls around him were closing in. It was easier to retreat. Easier to hide.
Before 007N7 could say anything else, Chance quickly stood up, his legs unsteady, his head spinning.
- “I… I need some space,” he said quickly, not waiting for a response before he walked out of the room and hurried down the hallway to the bathroom.
His heart pounded in his ears as he slammed the bathroom door behind him, locking it. The familiar silence of the room settled around him, and he sank to the floor. His hands were shaking as he reached for the blade.
He had tried so hard to keep it together. He had wanted to be okay. But he wasn’t okay. Not at all.
The guilt was suffocating. The darkness was crawling back, pulling him deeper, and the memories—the weight of everything—felt like too much.
He pressed the blade against his skin, breathing shallowly. He just needed a release. A way to make it stop. To quiet the storm inside of him.
But even as he held the blade, a voice echoed in his mind—You don’t have to do this.
It was 007N7’s words, soft and firm. You don’t have to carrythis by yourself.
But could he stop? Could he really stop?
He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that he didn’t have to do this anymore. That he didn’t have to keep hurting. But in the end, he didn’t know how. His fingers trembled as he pressed the blade against his skin once more.
The guilt, the grief, the loss—they all felt like too much. And for a moment, he wondered if this was the only way to quiet it. To stop the noise.
But then, as if a whisper, something inside him cracked. He couldn’t do it. Not again. Not after everything Guest had given him. Not after everything 007N7 had said.
With a shaky breath, he dropped the blade, his hand hovering over it for a moment before pulling away.
He wasn’t sure if it was the right choice. He wasn’t sure if it would ever stop hurting. But for now, for this moment, he chose not to fall further.
He sank against the bathroom door, his back pressed to the cool wood, and let the tears fall.
It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot..
Chance’s world felt like it was spinning faster than he could keep up.
The weight of his own thoughts, the guilt, the unrelenting ache in his chest—everything was crashing together in a blur.
And now, the worst part of it all, the part he never wanted anyone to see, was out in the open.
C00lkidd, with his innocent curiosity, had spilled everything.
He didn’t mean to, of course. He never could have known the impact of his question.
Chance hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Not like this. Not so… casually.
He had hoped the fa?ade would last, that he could keep pretending, fool everyone, keep the mask up just long enough for everything to feel normal again.
But now everyone knew. Everyone. Builderman, Shedletsky, 007N7, Noob, Two Time…
they all knew what he had been doing to himself.
How badly he had been hurting. And the realization felt like a blow to the chest.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want to be the center of their concern, the subject of whispered conversations when they thought he wasn’t listening. He just wanted it all to stop. To disappear.
That night, after everything came to light, Chance retreated to his room. His head was swimming, the sharp edge of his panic cutting through him with every breath. He didn’t want to face anyone. Not C00lkidd, not 007N7, not anyone.
The walls of his room, which had once felt like a safe place, now felt like they were closing in on him. The echoes of their voices, the concern in 007N7’s eyes, felt like too much. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think straight.
And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, he thought about it again.
Maybe they’d understand. Maybe Guest would understand. Maybe if he just… stopped, it would finally all make sense. Maybe the guilt, the pain, the loss—it would all end.
He remembered the words, the constant reminder from Guest’s letter: You’re strong. You can keep going. Please, keep going for us. But what if he couldn’t anymore?
He thought back to the night he almost took the pills, how his breath had hitched, how he’d realized—at the last moment—that he couldn’t do it. Not after everything Guest had done for him.
But now… now it was different. The shame, the guilt—it was all too much to carry alone. He couldn’t bear to face the others. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes. So, he did it.
One more time.
He went to the medicine cabinet, the familiar bottles in his hands, his mind numb. The voices in his head were louder now, telling him it was okay. That they’d understand. That everything would make sense if he just took this step.
This time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.
He swallowed the pills, one by one, until the bottle was empty. The world around him began to blur, his body heavy, his thoughts slow, as the darkness closed in.
He let it come. Let it wash over him. Maybe this time it would be peaceful. Maybe this time, the pain would finally end.
But it didn’t.
Not like he thought it would.
The next thing he remembered was the sound of someone pounding on the door.
"Chance! Chance!" It was 007N7. Panic laced his voice.
Chance's heart jolted in his chest, but he couldn’t respond. His limbs felt like lead. The voices in his head were louder now, the world spinning faster than he could comprehend.
And then the door was busted open. 007N7’s frantic face was the last thing he saw before his vision faded completely.
"Chance!" 007N7 shouted, his voice raw with fear as he dropped to his knees beside Chance’s body. His hand shook as he pressed two fingers to Chance’s wrist, checking for a pulse. "No, no, no, please. Don't do this. Don’t leave me."
But it was too late.
Chance didn’t hear the cries or the frantic phone calls for help. The last thing he felt was the rush of relief.
He had thought about this moment for so long. Guest would understand. He had to. Because Guest had been there too, in his own way. They both had been fighting something too big to handle. Maybe in the end, it was the only way to escape it.
But as his world dimmed, he realized one thing too late. He never had to fight alone.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. It wasn’t supposed to end at all.
But as his world dimmed, he realized too late,That the fight he’d fought was never his to take.A heart that shattered, a soul that bled,Fighting alone, a battle never said.
The weight of the guilt, the ache of the past,Now faded away in the silence at last.Guest’s voice, a whisper, so soft, so clear,Calling him close, drawing him near.
For all the darkness, for all the pain,He was free at last—no more the strain.And in the depths, where shadows sigh,He found his place, beside Guest, in the sky.
Together now, no more to fight,Their souls entwined in the endless night.No more pretending, no more fear,For in the underworld, he was finally here.