My blood runs cold. Why would someone else take a picture of this? Or rather, why would someone sit back and watch?

(Right. Like I watched Jessica?)

I decide I'm done with the pictures and click over to the forum instead, not really knowing what to expect. A few seconds of skimming the page tells me all I need to know. This site really, truly is dedicated to people wanting to die.

The sub forums cover methods of suicide—the least painful, the most creative, the fastest—to group discussions about what comes after death, and even places to discuss movies and music or whatever the hell else you want. Like it was any old forum for people to mingle and share interests. With the number of posts as recent as seconds ago, it's obvious the place gets some good buzz and stays fairly busy. Some members have countdown timers in their signatures.

49 days, 8 hours, 3 minutes.

I shiver.

I still don't know what I think about this. Any of this. If this is what I want, if this is what I need. But I'm morbidly curious and I want to figure it out. Knowing there are other people out there who get it, who have the same questions I do, makes the whole idea seem less ridiculous.

There's a new members sub forum, but I stare at the posting screen forever and can't think of anything to say beyond hi. I don't want to write about myself and send it out there into empty space. What if nobody responds? Instead I wander through other postings.

Soon I'm engrossed in stories of what led these people to this website. Their losses, the things they've had taken from them. I see the terminally ill, the clinically depressed, the kids bullied at school, the gays turned away by their families, the husbands and wives who lost everything when their spouses left them for the new, improved model.

I find the lonely ones, like me.

The people who haven't lost anything, because they never had it to begin with.

The usernames have cities and states listed under them, and I find a girl nicknamed Casper who lives in Walnut Glen, about forty-five minutes away from Hillsdale. Her post talks about her 'treatments,' an art gallery her parents took her to, and her favorite TV shows. And I'm not sure what to reply because these other commenters obviously know this girl to talk to her like they do. I feel kind of awkward, but I finally respond:

NowhereMan (Hillsdale, CA)

My city has a pretty neat gallery. Next month they're doing a feature on graffiti artists.

Nevermind that I've never actually been to the downtown art gallery, and that I had to look it up to see what sort of events they're holding. It's stupid, right? Going through that kind of effort.

That's how it's always been, though. Going out of my way to have something in common with someone. When I first met Corey she was nice and all, but I got her to hang out with me outside of school by pretending to be interested in her favorite female rock band, Calamity Kitty, who was in town doing an autograph session to mark the release of a new album. I never did admit to her how much I hated that band.