"You're not getting sick, are you?" asked Sarah.
"No, I'm fine," said Mike. "Don't worry about me. I'm just tired from the drive up."
With that, he said goodnight and went into the tent, zipping up the flap behind him. Away from his girlfriend and his brother, the boy let his true emotions show. He sat down, held his head in his hands and began to weep. He took out the razor blades he had brought with him out of his pocket and held them to his wrist.
"I guess this is it," he mumbled to himself. "Goodbye cruel world. Goodbye Sarah. Goodbye Max."
In one swift motion, he slit his wrists open and the blood began to flow. Then, just to make sure, he slit his throat and lay back, waiting to die. He could feel the life ebbing out of him as he slowly lost consciousness.
