The figure just lay on the bed, eyes firmly glued to the white vastness of the ceiling, unmoving, unspeaking and completely and utterly unresponsive.

==========

Let me tell you a bit about myself. My name is Chris, and until five minutes ago, I was alive.

I had been feeling depressed.
Not just depressed, going through some disillusioned, philosophical phase that was, not only revealing, but also fucking boring.
I wondered what it would be like in the vast black expanses of death.
I decided it would be worth my while to find out.

Suicide hardly seemed fitting, at this particular point in my life. I had GCSE's approaching, and if I went now, it was an awful fucking waste of my fucking life!
That coupled with the fact that I hadn't yet seen The Godfather II, Scarface and Clockwork Orange. But I had other things in life. Death, for example.

I had wanted to be an engineer.
Now, I'm getting to the Socially Distorted bit.

Life really started for me when I discovered the joys of Metallica, starting objecting to life, and starting wandering around in a depressed stupor. Despite my new non-responsive state, I was doing very much better in school. Partly down to a new found work ethic. Or the fact that Metallica is great inspiration to work with. I don't know. I didn't stop to find out...

I gave up on the day that I decided it was worth it. I had once envisaged going out in a fireball of blazing glory. I can't remember why, other than because I was a pyromaniac. I had no idea how I would achieve this; either blow up a building, or get caught in a volcano blast.
But what's the point of blowing up a building if there are no buildings that I object to enough to even consider blowing up.
The latter option, was quite possibly even harder. I live in Britain, and, I think that the nearest active volcano is in Italy. Or Iceland. Whichever is closer.
I dunno why I would know; I gave up Geography...

Beyond life, there is death. An adequate philosophy to live your life by. Slightly morbid, as many people pointed out to me, but I allowed them there chavviness, or whatever it happened to be with that particular person, so I expected the same in return.

The engineering idea came after experiencing work experience. No, I don't mean 'experiencing work', I mean 'experiencing work experience.' The tasks that we did were quite obviously not what would be experienced in the real workplace, but I caught on anyway.

But repetition is the root of all boredom. It is a well known fact. Doing the same style of question over and over again becomes so repetitive that you eventually fall into a routine. Then, even if you experienced the ultimate boredom, it would be better than that which you were experiencing before.
Repetition...
Repetition...
Repetition...
Repetition...
Repetition...
Repetition...
Repetition...
You see?

Then one day, my life took a turning point.

==========

Cold and unmoving. Those were the words that Simon used to describe the body that lay on his brother's bed. The usually white walls had been stained red, the source more apparent on a closer inspection.
He screamed.

==========

I finally achieved something in my life.
Something to be proud of.
Something that people would remember me by.
Something that would make the very mortal me immortal.
Something that most definitely was not a magical elixir...

It was a church.
Now you probably expect some long tale of redemption, but this church was completely different to most that you see around...
For starters, it had gargoyles...

That's not unusual...
Loads of churches have gargoyles - I mean look at Notre Dame...
But this was Manchester; where the most artistic renditions you would find were either being scrubbed out by kids doing community service, or on that stupid wall that changed 'Your new Sainsbury's' to 'Your spew Sainsbury's'.
Yes, and Colin Farrell said Bruges was bad.

The inside was filled with the traditional pews, and altar and other assorted religious crap, including a font... yes, a font...
But this church seemed to have been taken over.
For starters someone had given the barren walls a coat of paint.
It was a masterful gradient.
Red and Black.

Secondly, there were the stained glass windows. Someone had gone around drawing moustaches and goatees on all the religious figures. Jesus sported a rather stylish monocle. Moses had black streaks in his hair. The list would go on...

But the most interesting part of the church was the prayer book holder.
The single object on it caught my attention more than any other.
There were jewels pressed into it.
It was covered in a magnificent gold leaf.
The decorations were more than overboard; they wouldn't have looked out of place in the Sistine Chapel!
Plants entwined themselves around the edge, and down the centre.
Each leaf was glazed with a silver that almost glinted in the moonlight.
And the blade looked spectacular...

==========

The conversation could be heard in echoes, each bouncing off the walls of infinite time, into my brain.
"Chris... Blood..."
He was clearly in tears.
Mum provided the calming influence.
"I'm sure he's fine."
I wasn't...

There was a deep gash in his arm, at the blood-vessel rich left wrist, where the blade had sunk in once, boring deep into muscle, and spilling the blood over the surrounding area.
The fact that most of the area was white was an ironic touch.

==========

I could only imagine the conversation if I had survived.
Mum in tears; Dad angry; Bro refusing to look at me...
It would take a lot to redeem myself.
But, fortunately, I never had to experience my parent's anguish.

==========

I had stabbed myself in the wrist that very night.
The blood spurted out, and I felt my life force ebbing away.
This was the end.

==========

Toni flashed briefly into my eyes, glancing at the knife, a cheesy grin on his face.
He swore briefly in Spanish, and he disappeared into blackness. "Mierda!"

==========

This was my suicide and redemption.
My final curtain call.
My parents rushed in, and I woke up.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I was not dead.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I died that night, but woke up later.

This is my suicide and redemption.
Toni had died that night, but I was fine.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I was no longer depressed.

This is my suicide and redemption.
Part of me died that night. In fact, the part of me that wanted to die.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I'm all alone.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I stare at the knife, and hear my parents' sobs.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I think it through, about what I've put them through.

This is my suicide redemption.
I go downstairs.

This is my suicide and redemption.
I notice that my brother is no longer in the room.

This is my suicide and redemption.
They say to me, "Chris, this is really getting fucking annoying!"