C: Prologue
This is the prologue to a comparatively longer short story I wrote in fall of junior year. It has not been edited and is probably overly melodramatic. Content warning: suicide. Prologue I speed all the way to Ben’s house. The habitually anxious part of my mind warns me that if I get pulled over I’ll just waste more time and probably get a ticket, but I manage to keep the worry at bay and keep my foot on the accelerator. The roads and trees that were once so inviting and familiar are now shadowy and threatening, warning me of what I may be about to witness as I zoom pass. I am endlessly worried about how serious he is. I desperately hope he has not done - and will not do - what he has threatened to do. I stumble up the stairs in a huff after fumbling for the key that I eventually find in the same place it has always been hidden: tucked away in some blankets in an innocuous but old and tattered Amazon box beneath the porch. My hands are trembling as I turn the key, but I