His body up the last bit of oxygen within the bag as he tightened it around his neck. Like all the other times, it started with coughing.

From coughing, things usually would move on to gasping. The scratchiness of his throat always was the first bit of pain that made him want to quit, but with each attempt, his would himself growing used to scratchiness—used to the gasps and coughs.

His favorite part was when this became spotted—when he would start to lose his eyes. Sight was known for bringing comfort to humans because of its ability to keep fear from hiding. He liked the fear of blindness, though, for it meant to the young man that the end was finally on its way.

On this Friday morning, with the warmth of the sun hitting his back, he knew he would finally succeed—Hyo was going to die.

Or not.

Unfortunately, Hyo learned through his countless attempts at suicide that although his lungs would practically burst from suffocation and his eyes would be robbed of sight as he would lose oxygen, the young blonde knew that his hearing was never lost until he actually out. When the struggles were finally becoming too much to handle as if on cue Lucile would always make herself known by rasping her elderly fist against the front door of Hyo’s apartment.

“You better not be trying anything again in there, twerp!” She croaked through the wooden door. As he ripped open a hole in the plastic bag that had been covering his head, Hyo gasped for the cool sensation of air.

Damnit.

Within seconds, he heard the sound of keys turning through locks, and the front door to his apartment slamming open. Hobbling through a floor dirtied with old VHS tapes and wheels of film, Lucile shook her head. Hyo just sat on top of his counter and watched how the old woman glared up at him from across the room.

She was roughly five feet tall, a height not useful in this part of the city; however, despite her height, Lucile was known by more than just her tenants for being a small firecracker of a woman. Although she was turning what Hyo believed was eighty-four by the end of the month, he knew for certain that anyone would be better off thinking twice before harming or even approaching Lucile on the streets—unless, that is, if you wanted to hand her your monthly rent.

“Don’t think you’re dying on me, Hyo. You’re not dying till you’ve paid your rent or moved out of this building.” Lucile slowly stretched out her withered hand, blatantly ignoring the red markings around Hui’s neck and his disheveled hair as he tore off the plastic bag from over his head.

He coughed in reply. “Lucile, you’re looking, well, old today.” He breathed slowly, feeling the air return to his lungs once more. Although he had wanted to never feel the coolness of oxygen again, the boy admitted to himself that he, unfortunately, felt a sense of relief as the air rushed down his sore throat. To soothe himself more, Hui reached for the lighter and joint he had been using before his plastic bag experiment. I cannot deal with this sober right now. When will this stuff kick in? 100 percent fresh my .

Lucile glared at him as she stepped closer to the young blonde. With her hand still outstretched to him, Hyo blinked. He didn’t have the money—he never did. She knew better. “Give me that,” Lucile grumbled impatiently, taking the lighter from Hyo’s hand and the joint from his mouth. “I ing hate this junk, you know that sh*tstain.” She pushed him out of her way with strength all too familiar to Hyo. He hopped off from the counter and watched in agony as Lucile cracked open his window and tossed the lighter and joint out of the window.

“Lucile!” He yelled, stepping forward to hopefully stop her, what Hyo would deem, utter betrayal. As he stepped, though, his foot landed on a VHS tape. His weight caused it to slip out from under the blonde, and within seconds he was falling towards the counter. Catching himself, Hyo found himself bent over now eyesight with his landlord. The old woman turned towards him and sighed.

“You’re a mess, Hyo. You smoke every day, drink beer like it's water, and never listen to “little old Lucile.” Pretty soon I’m going to stop being nice and kick you out—rent or no rent.” She flicked his forehead and turned to leave. As she hobbled towards the front door, she called to the degenerate. “Until you can pay the rent, I’ll keep praying that your suicide attempts keep failing. Now hurry up and clean up for work.” With her hand on the doorframe, Lucile looked back at Hyo. “It’s the only time you ever leave this hellhole, so I want you looking at least a little put together.” With a wave, she was gone.

“Love you too, Granny!” He called, his words silenced by the slamming of the door. Hyo’s eyes dropped to the plastic bag in his hand. “This is sh*t.” He cursed under his breath as he stuffed the ripped plastic into a trash can.

H*H*H*H

The clock had said it was close to ten o’clock as he left the apartment and hustled down the three flights of his building. He had spent too much time lying in bed after Lucile left that he hadn’t gotten the chance to clean up for his shift at ten-thirty. At this rate, he’d be late.

Work.

If there was no better reason for death than a below minimum wage job as “that guy that spins the films” at a drive in, then Hyo would gladly spend the rest of his days searching for a more pitiful reason.

Since he was a child the young blonde had loved movies. They were a way to escape whatever life he lived at the moment. One of happiness, sadness, fear, anger, you name it—movies would have the ability to pull you out into a fresh world of possibilities.

With his love of film being the only love he had ever known, Hyo used it as a guide for himself the day he got the boot from his old man. Apparently, his father didn’t agree with the twisted lifestyle of a director that Hyo idolized: walking down a path lined with beer bottles, scandalously dressed women, and fresh blunts.

Screw him, Hyo had thought as he left his childhood and found himself in front of the drive in theater just ten miles down the road from the city’s main bridge. Within the fifteen minute interview, Hyo was hired. Although there was hope for him in that moment, Hyo learned quickly behind the rolling projector of the drive in.

Life was never like the movies. In the movies, life either worked out perfectly and everyone succeeded in achieving the American Dream, or, if it didn’t go too well, at least their suicides worked out perfectly.

As if a junkie for movies rather than weed, Hyo would spend his weekdays endlessly watching movies as if studying for ways to finally end himself of the struggles that came with trying to “just get by.” His weekends at the drive in, then, would be spent rousing the next way he would attempt to cut the cord.

Almost every day, to different extremities, of course, Hyo would attempt to end his life—the life that fell too short of that American Dream to be considered worthy of continuing. With the moon greeting him as he left the apartment building, and the soft breeze of the evening hit his skin, Hyo stopped. There was a sudden relief that flooded his body. The young man had no worries of being late anymore.

Hyo looked up at the sky and smiled to himself. It was a beautiful night, and, as he looked out at the street and watched cars pass by on their way home for the evening, he realized that it was the perfect night to say goodbye.

It was funny to him how he had his landlord on speed-dial as he pulled out his phone and called the elder. He ignored that there was no one else he ever called besides Lucile and the drive in.

“Sorry, Lucile,” Hyo began, ignoring the annoyed grumbles on the other side of the line. The blonde chuckled to himself as he began to walk down the street slowly. “I think you might need to sell some of my stuff to make this month’s rent. I won’t be making it to work this weekend.” He pulled his ear away from the receiver as Lucile began to yell into the phone. “I wanted to thank you, though, for stopping me earlier. Had you not,” Hyo smiled to himself as he looked up at the moon clouded in the oddly soothing pollution of the city. “I wouldn’t have been able to see the beauty of the night.”

As he walked down the road and listened to Lucile’s attempts to bribe him to return home for a “late night chat,” he glanced at the road once more. It was then, that he had an idea.

If you wanted something done well, sometimes the most simple and common way was the path to take. Now this, he thought, will be just like the movies. Simple. Quick. Easy.

“Lucile, I know, I know, this must be hard to hear.” Hyo chuckled as he walked to the edge of the street. The road had emptied, but he could wait another moment for his eternity to come. “But I wanted to say goodbye to my favorite old hag before I had to go—” Hui dropped his phone as he looked up the street that had been empty just moments before. A blaring light was rushing down the road in his direction. You know what they say, Hyo chuckled to himself, when it’s time to go, you go towards the light.

Hyo closed his eyes and smiled to himself, and let his body fall forward towards the pavement as if dragged by death itself. Not even a moment long enough for the degenerate to take a breath did the impact come.

Hyo flew. He gasped, his throat hurt, his lungs burst, and his sight left him.

All he felt was the cold pavement beneath him, and then nothing at all.