Chapter 1

"I tried so hard and got so far..."-Linkin Park, "In The End"

 

It's been two weeks since my suicide attempt. It's been a struggle but no intrusive thoughts today. Some days I wished the demons weren't sneaking around me like serpents just to make my life a living hell. They taunted me into killing myself. I was broken and needed an outlet. A better outlet. A reason to continue celebrating life rather than forgetting it. Some days, when I'm out of myself, I'm good. Other days, I get stuck there as if I were in a mouse trap.

 

My sister Dylan was involved in a drunk driving accident a year ago. She and two of her friends were on their way to a wedding rehearsal the night of March 20. After crashing near a construction site (she was the driver), a friend of hers found her lying in the middle of the road and had to call an ambulance. While at the hospital, she had to have six stitches on her forehead. But she was bleeding internally from her stomach.

Before Dylan caught her last breath, she told me one thing: "Please carry on Chester's mission, no matter what. He's been gone for years but it's up to us LP soldiers to fight this battle together. I know you still have your depressive episodes, but don't worry about me. I'm here with you, always. Especially in spirit." Then she gave me her Linkin Park bracelet and placed it gently in my hand.

"I love you," she whispered. Her heart stopped shortly thereafter. After my parents rushed by her bedside, she was already gone. We all cried. We didn't think it would happen. It was static and surreal. Life was unbearable without Dylan. She was my rock. She was the one who introduced me to the band Linkin Park.

 

My name is Tristan Cooper. I am seventeen years old and a senior in high school. I was seven when I was diagnosed with major depression by the family therapist. My parents were divorced around that time. After 13 years of marriage, they split citing irreconcilable differences. A divorce was worse than death. After the fact, I went straight to my room and listened to the radio waiting on a song to carry me to the next life. I was constantly bullied by my own classmates for being weird. I rarely said a word to anybody in school because I was extremely shy. They called me every incorrigible name in the book, some that I can't even utter from my mouth because they were considered filthy to me.

 

Dylan was the one who told me never to let those bullies bring me down. In my own little world, I delved into art and music for escape.

 

I was in my room just lying in my bed listening to the radio and "In The End" was blaring. I dreamt I was in another world where wisdom, justice and love were part of the golden rule. Nothing but fresh cut grass, beautiful flowers and spacious skies. And the sun represented Chester's effervescent smile. It was all interrupted when my cell phone rang. It was my friend Connor.

 

"Hey dude, what's up?" he asked.

 

"Not much at the moment," I said, exhausted.

 

"Still bummed about passing the history exam?" he said, jokingly.

 

"No," I told him, "I'm just in a foul mood. I'm not okay today. I haven't been since Dylan passed. For the past couple of weeks, I have been down because of the anniversary of her death. It's just not possible for me to be all happy-go-lucky twenty-four hours a day, you know?"

 

"Oh, buck up, man. You're gonna be alright. It's not the end of the world."

 

"You don't understand, dude. I jumped off the cliff near the river two weeks ago and nearly drowned after the fact. I landed myself in the hospital after the nurse got in touch with my mother. She told me herself that she didn't need another grave marker in the family. She knows I have intrusive thoughts. They never stop, even when I fall asleep."

 

"Wow. Sorry, dude," Connor replied.

 

For the next ten minutes, we talked about the upcoming spring dance and my invisible illness. I've been telling him about my struggles since we met in seventh grade. He knew about my thoughts, my suffering, my ups and downs. My mind was like a bad neighborhood that I shouldn't be in alone. Afterwards, we hung up. I was half-asleep when I heard the doorbell ring. I rushed downstairs like the house was on fire. I opened the door only to find a small note with the words Dear LP Soldier on the front. I opened the note to reveal the next few words. The note read, "Meet at Jefferson Park at midnight. Tell no one." For what it was worth, that night would surely change my life.