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Cliff Starling settled his back on the tree behind him, the soft fabric of his clothes softly grazed by it's sturdy bark as he let his body slip down atop it's roots. He sat himself down, readjusting his position a number of times to give his rump a more comfortable pose among the roots.

The velvet sighs of the winds touched his ears as their invisible hands caressed his face, bringing with them the young and cool scent of early Spring. He sniffed, appreciating that Spring seemed to be so polite as to welcome him with such beautiful scents of rivers and flowers in bloom instead of the depressing smell of rainstorm and the ensuing sticky smell of wet mud.

He felt the breeze of air migrate upwards and gave the tree's branches that gentle caress that Cliff knew 'Fruity' would like. The rustle of leaves drew a smile on Cliff's face, as he heard Fruity's sound of assent and he gave a few gentle pats on it's trunk.

He settled back on it's trunk and gave attention to the pen and big black notebook on his lap. His fingers turned it's nylon cover a page over and he was met with an elegant drawing of a rabbit and a panther--Himself and another person.

Or at least it was elegant to him. The rabbit looked nothing like he was in the drawing. He didn't have carrots for ears nor horse teeth in his mouth. He had buckteeth for crying out loud! The panther was much worse though...or was that a mouse? He didn't really know what it looked like, but it was a panther nonetheless.

What was supposed to be a muzzle came out as an oversized flobby nose. Above that unequally shade head with an oversized nose was something like a space rocket but he knew that it was supposed to be a tophat. A rocket--ermmm...top hat! Would you imagine that?

Then there was that line that was supposed to be his arms but then it extended down towards the ground. It was supposed to be an arm, with a hand, holding a cane. But what came out was a solid straight line.

A giggle escaped from the rabbit as vivid recollections of how the artist presented his 'Masterpiece' returned to his mind.

Whoever drew this was a genius. He knew how to put a smile on Cliff's small round face.

"Dylan" he sighed. Then as if reading his thoughts, the tree's leaves above him rustled and the swishing of leaves against leaves licked his ears. He gave a smile and patted his tree again, "I'm alright Fruity" He reassured him.

He rested his back again against Fruity's bark. Cliff then turned the pages of the small notebook, the numerous pages laden with writings softly bouncing on his eyes until he arrived at a page without any writing nor hint of ink.

He drew his fountain pen with his other paw, twisted the upper portion to pull the writing end out and let the inked edge touch the page. Cliff started writing.

Dear Dylan,

It's been already almost five years ever when I met you...

---

The rabbit named Cliff Starling sat by the river's edge. His eyes lazed down on the calm waters of Chicago's snaking river. A few pebbles slipped from his little white paws and harshly dropped on the river's reflection of his face. The said pebbles rudely disturbed the calmness of the river and gave his reflection a swirly white image.

He scoffed, the little deed bringing forth the raw memories the same day. He didn't even need to be reminded. The river calmed down and he caught himself staring at his own reflection. His little brown pupiled eyes tinged with crawling red veins became apparent to him.

He didn't cry, no, he's done with that. He wasn't a little kid anymore, yet people thought he was, treats him like it too. But it didn't bring him swooning hormonal teenaged girls though. Quite the grave opposite really, and when he says grave, he means GRAVE, grave. Like testosterone-crazy jocks feeding him dirt GRAVE. He could've sworn that there were steroids in the equation too. Those guys were big after all.

He sighed.

Today, they decided to throw rocks at him. Pebbles, to be specific, like the ones he dropped on his own reflection. They were small, harmless even. They were the type of pebbles that you throw on someone's window when you're trying to wake someone up in the middle of the night.

They weren't so harmless when they rain down in hundreds though.

The night winds smacked the rabbit's swollen cheeks, it's temperature leaving an electric buzz at a miniscule cut at his face. Bruises were expected more than cuts when the pebbles drizzled...He just didn't expect that a hailstorm would come after. A stray glass shard must have wandered a little too conveniently in their collection of rocks.

Another scoff escaped his muzzle. Would you imagine that? Those guys even took the time to collect those pebbles just to torment him! They even chased him like a pack of angry dogs when they did too, literally. They were dogs AND they were angry, no pun intended. That pack of angry dogs gave little humor to Cliff. Their roid-rage speaking.

Why of all the the thousands at their high school did they choose him? Was it because he was just a freshman? Or was it because he was gay? Or, or was it because he was frickin small? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was sort of a hobby to him. Another hobby to pass the time while their skanky cheerleader girlfriends that they were supposed to fuck with were in the salon having their fur done while gossiping how huge each of their boyfriends' dicks are.

"Damn it" he muttered under his breath, a cold puff of smoke materializing and vanishing into thin air a moment later.

He drew out his phone from his jacket, another object slipping out and falling on the river as he did so. Damn, more pebbles. He flicked his cellphone's cover out and went over the various messages he had. Okay, there's only one.

Kanra. The sender's name registered, the only contact he had on his cellphone now. He already deleted his non-existent friend's numbers as well as his disordered family's. He didn't really need those anymore. Kanra was the only person he needed.

He opened the message and read it silently.

"hey there ratsling I h0p u'r stil up for the litle dill we maid.I burrowd my frinds' thing. 2 bullits. 1 fr u 1 fr me. quickie and painles lol. no bcking out!!!!!?!?!?!?! b ther in 5 days then its b00m time lollollllll!!!!!!!!"

Cliff almost laughed at Kanra's inability to correctly construct even the smallest phrases, a feat that is equally difficult to your average highschool jock--had it not been for Cliff's hatred for said jocks.

He met Kanra in one of those 'Suicide Clubs' in the internet. It's kind of weird to put 'Suicide' and 'Club' in the same sentence. If you read into it too deeply, then it could've passed of as a BDSM club. But fortunately for Cliff, it's not. It was exactly what it's name suggests. A group for people who want to commit suicide.

Gory, it would seem to see a bunch of strangers splattering their brains out, but there wouldn't be any splattered brains if nobody pulls the trigger, right? So basically you find a partner or a group to do it with so nobody backs down when someone wusses out, and yes, they're all wusses. That's why they're finding someone to root themselves to shoot them dead. _Ever notice how difficult it is to pop the knot out when you're already tied? Painful as hell. _

That's why the clubs are there. 'The more the merrier! Let's make BLOOD in the club! Partey till you drop!' Were the different slogans of the site. It still mystifies Cliff that a site as scandalous as that was't even taken down though...or maybe he didn't really care.

His life was on a countdown after all. Five days till he meets Kanra. Five days till they celebrate their deaths. Five days till they shoot a bullet through their brains and drop dead.

Five more FREAKING days of suffering before Cliff can finally rest in peace.