Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26277607-20150405022630

My story was removed, so I decided to reupload it. First, I need feedback. I would appreciate it if anyone could tell me if this story is good enough to appeal. Here it is:

          I was 15 years old, on a school trip. Our whole grade was taking a trip to Miami. Everyone was excited and had a good time. We went on a small cruise ship the first night. Outside you could see the resorts lining up on the beach, glowing with color in the night. I don’t remember the rest of the trip too well, but I do remember leaving. I could never forget it.

We had left Miami and were in a city close to home that everyone knew well. The only thing was that that bus was passing through a bad neighborhood. When I say it was a bad neighborhood, I mean that there were literally gangs on the sidewalks with pistols in their pockets. But could I blame the driver? He probably was just going the quickest route. I mean, the gangs weren’t really doing anything. They were just there.

Then some adults on the bus started passing these devices out to everyone. They were plastic and were in the shape of a capsule. They were about the size of an apple and were black. There was a wrist band on one end and a string on the other, both of which were also black. On top of the device was a little switch and near the string was a small digital screen. I hadn’t seen anything like it before and nobody even explained what they were.

The bus then pulled into a parking garage that was about 8 stories tall. The doors closed and the lights turned on. I looked out the window and on the ground were a bunch of teenagers. They weren’t moving and seemed to be sleeping. Why would they be sleeping on the ground of some dirty parking garage? As the bus escalated up the garage, an adult explained what we had to do with the plastic things they passed out to us. I’m not certain, but I think it was a man. He said that once we arrived at the 6th floor, we were to exit the bus, put on the device, and push the switch. The screen would turn on and it would show a countdown from 3 seconds. Once it got to 0, whoever was wearing it would fall asleep. He said it was for health reasons, since we didn’t get much sleep or something like that during the trip. It sounds crazy when I try to explain it, but he just worded it so well that nobody really thought anything about it. Besides me.

He said that if you didn’t want to do it you didn’t have to and could just get a ride home from a parent. The trip was over, after all. Yet again, we were in a terrible gang area. Good luck to anyone trying to leave without getting mugged. Anyways, he didn’t really go over that option too much and kind of made it sound like you had to use the device. While we were heading towards the 6th story, I was looking out the window when something caught my eye. One of the teenagers was next to a support. On top of him was a large, rusty piece of metal. He was covered in blood stains and his head was almost completely disfigured. These teenagers weren’t sleeping. They were dead.

I tried to show a few of my friends the body, but the bus had already driven by it. They thought I was joking when I told them. I just kept thinking to myself. Why doesn’t anyone see the madness in this? How is this legal? I even asked myself if I should use it. The guy did make it sound like it was the best option. Before going on the trip, we all had to have our parents sign a permission slip, obviously, and a waver, too. He also gave us the option to back out, so I guess there wasn’t much illegal about it. Everyone’s parents probably didn’t look much at the waver and just signed it.

As we got off the bus, it occurred to me. The 6th floor was the first floor without dead bodies on it. Each year, everyone killed was put on a new floor. So, those bodies on the first floor had been dead for six years, and yet they looked fresh. Why would they want to preserve them? And they weren’t even given proper funerals? It made me wonder if their parents even knew what happened. All I knew was that we were next.

I took out the device and looked at it. I thought to myself, should I listen to them and go through. Maybe that kid was just unlucky and nobody noticed him. Everyone around me started using the device. They all started falling to the ground. I was one of the last ones still alive. Nobody had backed out yet. I thought to myself, “They’re adults. They know what’s best for us. I think it’s only right if I use it.” I put on the wrist strap and went to push the switch, until I realized something. I was too young. I had so much potential and so many things I hadn’t done yet. It wasn’t my time. Suicide sends you to Hell, after all. At that moment, I ran out of the garage.

Outside, I pulled out my cell phone. I was going to call my mom and go home. Yet again, this wasn’t a nice neighborhood. Right next to me was a gang. They were all white men in their early 20s. They had ripped shirts, gold chains, tattoos, and short, messy hair. They weren’t people you wanted to mess with. Then they tried to mug me. They pulled out guns and knives and before I knew it, I was being chased. I’m a fast runner and could’ve outrun them, considering there was only about five of them. But running wouldn’t get me across the street. I took a bike near me and started riding away.

As I rode down the street, I finally lost them and escaped that terrible neighborhood. Then I saw a familiar car. It was my mother’s car, coming to pick me up. She stopped and I stepped in. We drove down to a hotel somewhere in the city. I’m not sure why, since we didn’t live too far away.

Inside the room were my two younger brothers, one of which was four and the other ten. I told the whole story about the suicide devices and the dead bodies to my mom without even bothering to tell her how the trip was. To my surprise, she didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it. I tried to explain how there’s kids with depression who adults try so hard to keep away from suicide and now the school’s encouraging it, but I couldn’t seem to convince her. She then left for some errand.

I was then left alone with my brothers. I put the device on a table and just thought about what happened. Then, to my horror, I looked and saw my brothers playing around with it. The four year old put it on and flipped the switch and the timer went to zero. I yanked it away from him, but when I checked for a heartbeat or breathing, there was none.

I took out my phone. I was going to call 911 and quickly search the internet for a way to reverse it. There had to be a way. Suddenly, he started breathing again and regained consciousness. I had taken it off just in time. I hugged him and was just filled with relief. But soon, my relief turned to anger. I screamed at them, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing! Didn’t you just hear what I was saying to Mom?!” I took the device and through in the trash so hard it shattered. At that moment, I woke up.

I was grateful this whole thing was just a dream. I opened my eyes, but I wasn’t in my bedroom. It was pitch black outside and I could hear cars, sirens, and other normal noises in the city. I stood up and strapped to my wrist was the suicide device, with the timer at zero. Around me were the dead bodies of the classmates I had known since Kindergarten. I was still in the garage. I was too late. I was dead.  