Balloons POV

I got home, my heart still racing after what happened. There was a slight pit in my stomach, but I did my best to ignore it. I went towards the basement, closing the door behind me and locking it with the new lock I installed. It was easy to install since mom and dad weren't home at the time. The house felt empty without Clove here, making me second guess on my decision to leave her with Suitcase, but nonetheless, it was too late now, everything was being set into motion anyways.

I flopped down onto my bed, a creaking noise filling my ears. I sighed, pulling out my phone and blindly scrolling through post after post. I'm going to miss these things. I mean, I might as well see what I've written already. My last words have to be important. Getting up from the comforts of the bed were much harder than getting in, as I went over to my desk. I opened the drawer which hid all of the things that would be troublesome for others. I pulled out two small papers.

Previous suicide notes.

I took the first one off, reading over it. There wasn't much substance to it, honestly. This was before I met Suitcase, around 7th grade, I think. Obviously I didn't go through with it, as I was a coward then. No longer am I a coward.

The second one mentioned Clove, I got her around the summer of 8th grade. I chuckled as I read over "All of my possessions go to Clove." It was funny how naive I was.

I got out a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, a empty feeling of dread filling my gut as I began to write.