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Adam Walker

"If you want to protect something, you have to throw away everything. I ran out of things to throw away."

0 · 893 views · located in Camp Suicide

a character in “Suicidal Support”, as played by Zero Reaper



Well I was dead when I woke up this morning / And I'll be dead before the day is done
- Florence and the Machine, Seven Devils
Seven Devils || M4 Part II || Song To Say Goodbye |


Adam James Walker


"I feel about a million years older than that."

|Suicide Incident|

"No. Haven't tried, not myself... friends of mine. A lot of them. Six, to be exact. One... more than a friend, but that's not what matters. Or is it? Guess it doesn't matter now. At any rate, all of them are dead. I tried to stave off the inevitable - just got harder and harder after each one of them went. Fought, fought hard, wanted to be a hero - gave everything to them. Didn't make a single bit of difference. Would've been easier if they'd all done it at once, but it took, what, a year? Thereabouts. She was the last of them to go; six months ago. There. Is that what you wanted to know? Good. Fuck off- what, have I thought about it? Think about what I just told you. Then come up with your own answer. I'm done here. Goodbye."


"Grew up in New York; moved to California seven years ago. Frankly, I preferred New York, but we can't have everything. At least it's warmer here, huh?"



|Years as part of the support group|

Joined when it was first set up; instead of joining as a conventional member, he joined with what could be considered an almost scientific interest, as so to learn more about the nature of the illness and help his friends.

|Sexual Orientation|

Straight; functionally speaking, now asexual, as he believes himself to no longer be capable of love

|Favourite Things|
"Now I'm breaking down your door
To try and safe your swollen face
Though I don't like you anymore
You lying, trying waste of space”



"Always wanted to go to Iceland - the scenery there is truly beautiful, in a terrifyingly bleak way. If I had to choose somewhere to die... I don't need to finish that sentence."

"'Song To Say Goodbye', by Placebo. I... can sympathise with the singer's thoughts in that."

"V For Vendetta. Wanted to be like that myself, once upon a time; lack the strength now. Teaches us some important things - like how little people value their freedom, until it's gone."

|Fashion item?|
"It's a little embarrassing... I still own an old, battered, lightweight US Army coat that was handed down to me by my grandfather. I don't wear it much - the old me, the man who was, wore it all the time. But my grandfather said that it was the coat he wore when he saved his platoon. It's the coat of a hero, not some washed-out, bitter kid who bit off more than he could chew. So it sits in my suitcase. And it's staying in my suitcase."

"Winter; I prefer the cold lighting and the dead sky. Things are too easily revealed in the light of summer."

"The world only knows its own natural order. Even then, I still prefer the living chaos of man to the deathly harmony of nature."

"Grey. Doesn't have any traits to it of its own, doesn't have the anger of crimson or the life of green. Doesn't have the absolute morality of black or white. And if you say that it's a shade and it doesn't count, then I am walking out of this office right the hell now."

"Ulysses S. Grant. A man who forged two flags into one, brought peace to a nation by whatever means he saw fit, and who gave his very soul to do it. Gave up every trace of his humanity for what he felt was right. I guess you could say that I understand what he went through, in my own way."

"Consider this childish if you will, but I still can't get over the taste of a good hot chocolate in the morning."


|Little Things|
"If all goes as planned / Will you redeem / My life again?”



|| the cold || physical combat || unusual food || firearms || writing || music in minor key || paintball || keeping in shape || reading shakespeare || adrenaline || history ||
|| finding what makes people tick || going for walks || sleep || 'triage', by scott anderson || conducting intellectual debates || discussing philosophy || not being alone ||


|| people who accept defeat || the world || politicians || the media || getting close to people || people who assume they understand || psychologists || 'family values' ||
|| preachy religious people || passivity || doing nothing || feeling weak || himself ||


|| Secret ||
"Five months ago, I killed three people. I keep telling myself that it wasn't my fault... they walked up to me on the street, started shoving me, laughing at me. I think they were her sister's friends... they knew about what had happened to her. They mocked me for it. Called her weak, called me weak. One of them pushed me to the ground, and I saw a jagged piece of metal on the ground... I don't know what it was doing there. I picked it up, stabbed- listen, I won't tell you what happened next. But all three of them died. I covered my tracks well enough; nobody knows it was me. Wait- what? You think that's my secret? God no... no, I don't tell people that, not people I don't trust, because it could land me in jail. But there's one thing I don't tell people. Don't tell anyone, barely even know myself, I've tried to bury it so deep. No, the real secret is that I felt nothing. Standing there over their corpses, I realised that there was no emotion in me. No guilt. No anger and no fear. Nothing. Tell me, what the hell do you think that makes me?"

|| Secret ||
"I'm afraid of intimacy- goddammit, don't laugh. Yeah, doesn't fit the stereotype, huh? Guys are supposed to always want it. Besides, I'm that confident, charismatic guy who gets looked up to. Why the hell would I be afraid of it? Well, that's simple enough. I'm not a virgin - I had sex once. With her, of course. She offered herself to me, one night. Told me she wanted it - I was perfectly fine to go through with it, then, anyway. No, nothing went wrong - it was good, yeah. But the next day- sorry, give me a second. The next day, I woke up, and she wasn't there beside me. That was the night before she died. Do you fucking get it now? Yeah. Ever since, every time I think about sex, I feel like I have to throw up. Now get out."


|| sharks || injuries to his fingers || pencil sharpener blades || getting close to people || his mind ||


|| sleeps for twelve hours three nights a week, doesn't sleep the other four || whenever he's near a knife, gains the overwhelming compulsion to pick it up and play with it; makes people at the camp very nervous, for obvious reasons || curls his fingers into a fist whenever he feels the will to action go through him || gazes into his palm when he's thinking about the past ||

|In The Mirror|
"Fire the fields, the weed you've sown / Water down your empty soul”

|Hair colour|
|Eye colour|
Bullet wound from a shooting accident on his left shoulder; his left shoulder still cracks when he exerts it, but otherwise, is in good condition. No tattoos. Six cuts - exactly six - on his left wrist for every person he failed.

|The Real You|
[font=garamond]"Before our innocence was lost / You were always one of those / Blessed with lucky sevens / And a voice that made me cry"


Bossy: "I like to consider myself a leader, if that's what you're asking. I make things happen."
Opinionated: "Always. Those without opinions are weak; they die too easily. It's important to stand by something, even for its own sake."
Afraid//Paranoid: "Afraid? Nothing to be afraid of, not anymore. As for paranoid, though... let's just say that I don't like being snuck up on."
Ruthless/Relentless: "Overwhelmingly. Suffice to say, do not fuck with me."
Demanding: "I demand only that you survive."
Broken: "You think I'd be here if I wasn't?"
Affectionate: "Once. Killed that part of myself. Only one person ever got to see it... didn't do her much good, now did it?"
Risk-Taking: "Adrenaline makes me feel alive, if only a little bit. So I stick with it."
Fearless: "Always. When you lose everything dear to you, you also lose all fear. A rather dark trade-off, hm?"
Tough: "Tougher than you are."
Self-Controlled: "Most of the time. Sometimes, I just snap. I try to keep it under control. If I do... well, I'm sorry."
Independent: "Rely on anyone, they'll just die on you. Better to be independent. Some people might call that 'alone'. I don't mind either way."
Honest: "Only when it suits me."
Loyal and Faithful: "Nobody left to be loyal to."
Serious: "I don't think I've smiled genuinely in a long time. I don't plan to start now."
Romantic: "No. Just... no."
Flirty: "Moreso now, surprisingly. I guess it's some sort of self-flagellation. Doesn't mean anything either way."
Sympathetic: "Not a shred of sympathy left in here. If there was, I'd be long dead."
Sarcastic: "I try."
Optimistic: "Optimism gets people killed."
Determined: "In the extreme. That's why I made it as far as I did. If nothing else, that word is what defines me."
Logical: "When you're put into my circumstances, it's your only choice."
Hyperactive: "When I'm excited enough."
Sweet/Kind/Caring: "I kill every trace of that I find inside myself. If I get rid of the bits of me that care, maybe it'll hurt a little less."
Protective: "If you want to protect something, you have to throw away everything. Me? I've got nothing left to throw away."
Nurturing: "That word's so far from me that it's actually almost funny."
Humorous/Funny: "When humorous situations arise, I'm generally being laughed at, not with."
Seductive/Manipulative: "Once, when I still had fire inside me, I'd do whatever I had to. These days... I lack the fire."
Violent/Cruel: "You have no idea what's inside of me. Do not try to find out."
Ill Tempered: "Depends on the day. As a general rule? Don't test me, or my patience."
Social: "Only when I can't avoid it, or when the people I'm with are actually interesting."
Emotions: "I don't think I have any left."


"What's there to tell? I was born in New York. I remember barely anything of my early life - wasn't significant, at the very least. I remember getting into a few too many fights at primary school; pissed off the wrong people, I guess. Pissed off the teachers, too - felt proud about that, at the very least. Learned an intrinsic dislike of authority one day; one of my few clear memories from back then. I saw a teacher hit a kid, just a kid, because the teacher's child didn't like the kid. Realised early on how easily authority can be abused; realised then and there how few morals people have. An important lesson."

"Anyway, I moved to California when I was ten; preferred New York, from what little I recall of the place, but I'm not too picky when it comes to location. People are far more important. Had a simple enough middle schooling; didn't make too many friends, and didn't care about that, then went to high school. Yeah, that's where things went wrong."

"Oh, my parents? Interesting story there. Most people here, I imagine, have bad parents of some sort; either they don't understand, they don't care, or they're outright abusive. Not mine, though. I mean, yeah, they disagreed a lot with what I did; and my father tried to hit me once. For the record, I won that one. Anyway, they weren't perfect - not by any means - but they did one thing right, one thing, and because they did that, I won't ever be able to thank them enough. What was it, you ask? Well, that's simple. They taught me to be me. It can't have been easy, raising my like they did - most parents just tell their kid to obey their elders, to always do as they're told. My parents didn't do that. From the moment I could understand what their words meant, they told me that my life was mine to live, and that I should always choose to obey others. That I never had to do anything, and that if anyone tried to force me, then I should never regret stopping them, regardless of the 'how'. I've never met anyone else who sees the world that way - anyone who sees that the laws of men are just words, and that rules are only rules insofar as they're enforced."

"Anyway, back to the story. I had just entered high school when I met her. I didn't think much of her at first - we hung out a few times, she asked if she could email me a story she'd written, I said 'sure'. That's how it started... anyway, we kept talking after that. Back then, I just thought she was a normal person with a few smaller issues; it was a slow realisation, for me, just how broken she was inside. Over time, she revealed to me the extent of the pain she felt; revealed what happened to her. Dead sister, abusive father, alcoholic mother - she'd fit right in around here. Anyway, I fought by her side for a time - a long time, actually. A year; not sleeping, not resting, always there for her. Anytime she felt herself slipping, I'd be there, talking to her, pulling her out of it. I thought it'd be over after a week - when that passed, I thought it'd be over after a month. Soon, I started talking to her other friends; they were the same as she was. They all met in middle school - I was the outsider, to them. But a welcome outsider; not an invader, but a hero. Someone who'd come to save them all. That's how I saw myself, too."

"Anyway, she was afraid that she'd lose her best friend after the aforementioned friend attempted suicide. So I promised her that nobody was going to die; nobody she cared about. I started talking to her friend... then to another. That's how it started, y'know? Just little steps. Just little ones... nobody was ever supposed to get hurt. Nobody was ever supposed to die. It wasn't meant to end this way, but I guess that we don't get to choose the consequences of our actions."

"I don't know how it happened, but there was a light, eventually. I don't recall the details - locked most of those out of my mind. One day, she found her way into my arms, then my lips. Things... got complicated, after that. I had more of a personal stake - too much of one, you could say. You ever tried balancing a relationship with being the only living hope for six people? No? Don't. Trust me, doesn't work."

"Things went bad, after a while. Things went... very bad. Her best friend was the first to go; that friend's boyfriend, two days later. I think it took... two months? By then, she was the last. I still remember that night... I was at her house. Fell asleep holding her, as she whispered into my ear that she'd always be there for me; when I woke up, she was gone. Just... gone. Searched for four days; walked the streets. Didn't go home, didn't call anyone or talk to them. Found the newspaper on the fourth day - by then, I was basically a shell of a human being, since I hadn't eaten in around eighty-five hours. It said that a girl had- gimme a second. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Get your hand off my shoulder. It said that she'd jumped in front of a train. That was all she got - four or five lines, nothing more."

"And the effect? Well, let's just say that she wasn't the only one who died that day. That's all I'm saying. Now, if you don't mind, I'm done here. I'm only on this camp because my parents made it harder for me to not go than to acquiesce. So this interview is over. Got it?"


Robbie Amell

So begins...

Adam Walker's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson Character Portrait: Declan Branson
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#, as written by Beffiye

Weather: Sunny and warm. 30 degrees Celsius /86 degrees Fahrenheit.
Date: Monday 29th May 2014
What’s going on?: All the campers are arriving this morning. They must be here by 9:30AM, and are to attend activity group introductions at 10:00AM. If you are wise, you will arrive with enough time to unpack and find out where you need to be. You will meet your bunk mates before you head off to activity group introductions. All members of the same bunk house are in the same activity group.
Time: 9:00AM


It was not too early in the morning when the first camper arrived, but alas, usually they all turned up a little closer to the dead line. No one had arrived half an hour early last year, and for now, this camper was going to be all alone.

A blue Fiat 500 Twin Air Pop pulled up on the small camp car park, but kept its engine running. The figures inside did not move for a minute, seemingly caught up in conversation, then the passenger (shotgun) door opened. A small female with bright red hair climbed out, then turned around as the driver summoned her attention again.

“You have got your anti-depressants, right?” Amber’s sister asked as she leant over the steering to pass Amber her rucksack and suitcase. The red haired girl took them off her sister and feigned a look of pure horror.

“My anti-depressants?” She gasped, searching her pockets. “Oh no!”

Her sister’s face was priceless. She glared long and hard at Amber, her face full of disappointment and worry. “Oh Amber…”

“Just kidding!” Amber cut in, risking a shit eating grin. “The look on your face was priceless though.” Chuckling, she gave her cussing sister a wave and slammed the car door. “Adios!”

Sighing, Amber turned and slowly trudged along the pathways towards the main hall, her rucksack hanging off one shoulder and her opposite arm dragging her suitcase behind her. She was happy to be back, of course she was, but enthusiasm towards anything was always hard to feel.

Once she got to the main hall, she paused for a moment and made sure that her favourite knife was safely hidden away at the bottom of her bag. In a moment, she would have to hand in all weapons (no self-harming was allowed on site, or suicide, obviously. No one really took heed of those rules though,) and she wanted to have something left. Last year, the weapons check had surprised her, and she hadn’t had much left to use in the way of self-harm, other than razor blades. They couldn’t really take those off you.

Taking a deep breath, she strode in. The main hallway was empty of campers, which meant she could quickly and easily get herself sorted. First of all, she put her bags down at the side near the door, and walked through the metal detector that separated her from the reception area. Knowing that it was unbelievable if she had no weapons, she had purposely left a rather crappy and broken pen knife in her pocket. When the metal detector started bleeping, she threw it into the small wooden crate at the side and moved on. Scampering towards the notice boards, she scanned them for the activity group lists.

Eventually, she found her name:
Activity Group 4:
Female Cabin: Amber Edwards, Autumn Branson, Katarina Lester, and Wiley Maxtyn.
Male Cabin: Adam Walker, Augustus Kings, Declan Branson and Wren Donovan.

Now that she knew what group she was in, Amber checked her cabin number (7, and the males in her group were in Cabin 8) and then picked up the correct activity schedule from the piles on the small table next to her. After signing in at the reception, she hurried back over to the other side of the room again, eager to collect her bags.

Before she picked them up however, she glanced down at her activity schedule to see what she was doing today. Ugh, introductions and the like, the same as last year. Sighing, she headed off to her cabin, bags in tow.

It took her a bit of time to find her cabin, as the numbers where only displayed in tiny gold lettering on the doors, but eventually, she found number 7. She gently turned the rounded, brass knob and pushed the door open, and stepped into a plain, unexciting cabin that contained all the same features as last year.

Once she had shut the door behind her, Amber threw her rucksack onto the top bunk nearest the window, marking her place. She set her suitcase down next to the bunk bed, and knelt on the floor as she unzipped it. Time to get unpacking.

Each bed had a small number written on the side, and the beds in bunk 7 were marked as 25, 26, 27 and 28. Her bed was 28, so she opened the closet marked with the same number and began hanging up all her clothes neatly. She didn’t have a lot, and they mainly consisted of grungy t-shirts and jeans.

Time ticked on by, and soon Amber could hear campers walking past the cabin and chatting. She finished unpacking her clothes and various other things, put the empty suitcase in the wardrobe and shut it gently. She clambered up onto her bunk and sat with her rucksack in her lap. At the side of her bunk, on the wall, was a long shelf, with a plug at the end. This was where she intended to put things like her phone, her charger, the current book that she was reading, her notebook, etc. She began unpacking them as she waited for her bunkmates to arrive at the cabin.

Amber’s Outfit

The setting changes from Camp Suicide to California


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson Character Portrait: Augustus Kings
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The setting changes from California to Camp Suicide


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson Character Portrait: Declan Branson
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The car ride seemed rather quick for Autumn and her brother. Not only was this camp posing as a rehab facility, but also a safe haven from the home they had just been removed from. She sat quietly in the passenger side, watching the white line run it's length from point A to point B. The day was beautiful, had they arrived the day before it would have been raining and not half as warm. No, this day was perfect. Of course it was early, so she was unsure of what the day would bring, but she was hopeful for there was not even a cloud in sky.

"You're awake?" Declan shuffled in his seat as he glanced from me back to the road. Through bits and pieces of the car ride she had fallen asleep, but the loud air coming through the back window always soon woke her up.

"Yeah, I'm up. You nervous this time?" She laughed at herself as she struggled to turn over in her seat, looking up at him as he drove.

"Nah, I just hope the guys aren't like last year. They were so disrespectful it amazed me."

"Don't get your panties in a wad Deedee. We'll be fine, we always are." He scuffed and his eyes fell heavy, and Autumn automatically felt bad for saying it. Fine is a word that they have always used to cry out for help to each other. But they have found that the majority of the time, there is nothing they can do.

"We're here." He parked the car in the dimly lit parking lot, and they both got out to grab their duffles. Of course, Declan grabbed her's, afraid that any weight may hurt her aura or something. Well not really, but it was just something else he did for her.

"Want me to go sign us in?" She was already holding the door open,and when he nodded she entered the area. The main hall was shabby, little more impressive than the cabins she had stayed in last year.

The guard stared at her strangely, and she replied with," Dr. Decles has our bags." She set off toward the reception desk. She looked at the sign in sheet, surprised to have seen another name. Amber was written beautifully on the page. She thought she recognized the name, but couldn't place the figure. She quickly wrote her and Declan's names down, and checked the activities of the day. She sighed, and redirected her attention to look at the cabin numbers.

Seven and eight, seven and eight she thought to herself as she went to fetch her brother, only to find him opening the same doors as she.

"Hey, you're in eight." She called to him as he set down the bags for the routine check. He smiled at her and quickly recollected their things. They set off toward the cabins, where they made their entrance in seven.

"Dude coming in, is audience ready?" Declan called out into the building, hopefully not to walk in on anything.

"You're such a wuss." She mumbled to him as she walked inside and noticed the girl sitting on a bed. She stood silently, unwilling to talk considering later that day their introductions were due, so she silently took her things from Declan, thanking him. She was glad to see no one had taken the top bunk of the first bed, so she claimed lucky 26 as her own. She threw her pillow on the bed, and quickly unpacked her things, oblivious to the actions of the other girl.

"Are you just going to stand there Deedee? You have a cabin too you know." She joked and told him she loved him. He exited hastily with his own duffle in hand.

When her bag was cleared and her things set up in her closet the way she found suit. She relaxed on her bed with her sketch pad. She closed her eyes and quickly began to draw a bird landing on a small branch. She began to clearly depict the individual feathers, as the colorless bird's wings bent for the landing. She titled the image. "We arrived."



He left her in her room, nervous of the other girl. Something was just different about her and he couldn't pin it. He carried this thought into his own cabin, not too far away. He had always loved this camp, whether he admitted it or not. It gave him a sense of serenity knowing that his sister was okay, and he himself wasn't in constant demand of his peers. He liked to get away, and this camp provided it. Even though it hadn't helped it's purpose since the first year he had arrived.

He opened the door to the cabin quickly, and found he was alone inside. He picked the father bed from the door, which was number 36 (bottom bunk on far side of room so last number), and slumped down on it. He was glad to be away from the demons that haunted him. He just took some time to relax, sprawled on the bed like a fish out of water. Then he sighed as he got up and began unpacking, putting his clothes away in the closet that had his number. He had learned the hard way last year, not to put important things in that closet.

When all was said and done, he took off his shirt and threw it in the dirty clothes, retrieving another. He hated sweating, unless of course he was exercising. With nothing better to do, he crept into his bed, and decided to take a small nap. The long drive had been tiresome, but he was glad Autumn had gotten enough rest.

Autumn's outfit Declan's pants
Declan's shirt

The setting changes from Camp Suicide to California


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson
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Waking up from the sound of her annoying alarm clock, Katarina got out of bed. Quickly changing and checking her large suitcase and backpack once more, she went out into the living room of her house. Her Dad was already waiting for her at the door.
"Ready to go sweetheart?" he asked, looking at the questionable amount of black Katarina was wearing. Katarina simply nodded before they started their voyage to Camp Suicide. Black headphones were stuck in her ear to block out the annoying country music her Dad listened to. Sliding her music volume all the way up her father frowned.
"With your music up that loud, it'll pop your ear drums" he said, his scolding in vain as she just couldn't hear him. Her Dad let out a sigh before continuing to drive the rest of the way.

Five hours passed until they pulled up in the drop off ring of Camp Suicide. Reluctantly she pulled out her headphone and avoided the awkward look her father gave her. She felt bad for her dad, truly. No father should have a suicidal depressed child. It only made her feel worse about herself that she was coming to a camp to get "help". He was spending all his hard earned money to get Katarina out of her state, but she couldn't help but feel like a burden.
"I love you Kitty Kat. Now go get better. Make some friends" her father said before she opened the door. She gave him a faint smile.
"I love you too Daddy" her quiet voice replied, making her father smile. She grabbed the large suitcase and backpack from the trunk of the car. With a small wave she walked into the main building. The weapon check was always a pain in the ass, but this year Katarina didn't bring anything they would catch. Her Dad had completely strip check her bags for anything. The only this she had were a few shaving blades, which could easily be dismantled to serve the purpose she wanted them for.
Katarina got through the metal detector with ease and made her way over to the activity board. Eyes scanning down it for her name, she finally spotted it.
Activity Group 4:
Female Cabin:
Amber Edwards, Autumn Branson, Katarina Lester, and Wiley Maxtyn.
Male Cabin:
Adam Walker, Augustus Kings, Declan Branson and Wren Donovan.

Some names seemed vaguely familiar, but Katarina was never good with names in the first place. Taking an activity sheet for her group and signing her name, she carried her things to her designated cabin. Her movements were slow as her feet were barely picking themselves up off the ground. After circling the few cabins twice, she found the one she assigned to. The brass knob on the door was the same, the rickety stairs, and the little bugs in the front window were all the same. Hesitantly she knocked on her room door to ensure no one would be surprised by her entering and opened the door. The first sight she saw was the bright red hair of her new cabin mate. The next was a girl sketching on her bed. A small wave was produced by Katarina, but nothing more. Katarina put her things on the bed marked as 25, and took a moment to look around the dull room.
With a sigh she grabbed her suitcase and brought it to her closet, beginning to unpack her belongings for the summer.


The setting changes from California to Camp Suicide


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson
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#, as written by Wispy


The whir of plane engines sounded overhead and the hustle and bustle of California traffic echoed throughout the state. But all of that was lost to the male that was driving down the road. It was a large jeep, made more for beach riding than for roads but he changed the tires before he left. The top was in the trunk and the windows were down so it almost looked like he was missing half of his car.

The wind flew though the vehicle and the quiet sounds of the valley drowned out the loud sounds of the cities. He was headed to camp for the 4th and final year. He was sad to leave but he would always come back and volunteer if need be.

What camp you ask? Well, it is a camp for troubled youth. Those that have found a way to stoop so low as to attempt to kill themselves or mutilate themselves in some way. Don't let it's awfully scary name ward you off because it is only trying help prevent these situations. It goes by the name of Camp Suicide.

It offers an outreach station to the children of troubled pasts. Those that have lost all hope and sunk into the deepest corners of depression and exile from the world. They believe that nothing can be done to help them. That the world would be better off if they weren't here. I'm just one tiny insignificant person! What will it matter if I die?

Ever since Augustus saw his departed sister in a dream, he thought that way as well. The world would have been better off if the sharks took me instead of Ellie. Elinor was her name and it reads on her headstone, 'Ellie Kings. Beloved sister and friend. 1992-2009, aged 17 years'.

The loss of his sister was devastating but it hit August to the point that he cut himself off and fell into his own world, almost losing himself in his own mind before he was sent to this suicide support group. Now, he acts as a testimony. An example to all other youth that you can come out of depression if you so wanted to.

He pulled into the camp, gliding into a parking spot with ease and then his car went silent. On the dash, a hula girl stand along with a picture frame that had his sister's picture in it. She was beautiful and not one man had gotten to delve into that beauty and tell her that they loved her. She had career plans, a college scholarship and even plans for a family but all those were ruined because she went surfing that one morning.

His lips set a small kiss on the glass then he set it back on the dash, put the hood on his jeep, rolled up the windows and grabbed his bag and his sister's surfboard. He took it with him everywhere. Never leaving it behind because it was one thing that he knew she cherished so he would never lose it in remembrance of her.

Another summer had begun and another year full of stories to be told.

He had gotten an e-mail about the groups a week before so he headed straight for cabin eight which is where he would be staying. He opened the wooden door and then gazed at the male on the bed.

"It's nice to meet you."


The setting changes from Camp Suicide to California


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson
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Wiley had spent the last week in “Rehab” or at least that’s what the media was being told. The reality of it was, she’d spent the last two weeks the hospital on Suicidal watch. She’d tried and failed again. She had the gun in her mouth ready to pull the trigger, she’d hesitated for only a second and her mom had walked in. That was when her psychologist gave her two chooses spending half the summer in the hospital and the other half in Rehab or going to a suicidal support group for the summer. In the end, her psychologist had made the decision for her.

At the current moment, she was stuck in the waiting room of her psychologists office, sketching the receptionist as a corpse. She sighed when she heard her mother start screaming, from inside her Doctor’s office. It was obvious her mother didn’t care much about her, she never had. All her mother saw was dollar signs when she looked at Wiley. Her mom didn’t want her to go off to some camp, Wiley had given up a part in a TV show due to her issues and her mother had pretty much told her she was worthless. The door to her Doctor’s office slammed shut and Wiley looked up from her sketch and from behind her black Ray Bands.

“I hope your happy.” Wiley’s mother spat. She looked ridiculous, with her over processed bleach blonde hair, perfectly Botoxed skin, and way too much make-up. There was no denying she was a Hollywood House wife. “You have fun at your cute little camp, but as soon as they realize your just an attention whore, you’re going straight back to work.” She hissed cruelly before leaving Wiley there alone.

A moment later her Doctor came out giving her an apologetic look. “Alright Miss Wiley, Let’s get you to camp.” He said with a warm smile and she grabbed her things.

The drive was silent and took a few hours. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Wiley was excited to be getting away from the glimmering lights of Hollywood. She’d never had a normal childhood and she desperately hoped that none of the other campers would know who she was, but she highly doubted that. She hoped if they did know her, they hated her, so she could keep to herself. Finally they pulled up to the drop off circle. She sighed running her fingers through her long hair.

“Doc, just take me home with you.” She breathed.

“I wish I could kiddo, but you need help.” He said giving her a soft smile. The two of them stepped out of his BMW as he helped her unload. “I talked to your counselor already.” He said handing her a piece of paper, stating the schedule and which cabin she was assigned to. “Play nice Emma. I just want you to get better, your too young to be this sad.” She said looking her over like he felt pity for her and it was hard not to, you could tell how unhappy she was with a single look in her eye and it took away from how truly beautiful she actually was.

“Yeah, I know.” She whispered, she hugged her doctor, before throwing her guitar case over her shoulder and picking up her suitcase, heading to sign in. Once she was finished signing in she headed to her cabin. She slipped inside ignoring the others that were inside as she set her guitar case one of the empty beds.

Wiley’s Outfit

The setting changes from California to Camp Suicide


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson
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#, as written by Beffiye

Amber was just stacking a couple of novels onto her shelf when she heard a male voice from outside.

“Dude coming in, is audience ready?”

She rolled her eyes and looked towards the door, ready to tell the male that he had got the wrong cabin. However, when the door opened, a girl was the first one to walk in. A male was standing behind her, holding her bags, presumably her brother. That was odd, siblings, parents or guardians usually dropped members off and then left again.

“Hi,” Amber offered to them, but as she expected, nothing was said back. Oh well, there was no harm in trying to seem friendly. She sighed as the other girl said goodbye to her brother, but her ears perked up when she mentioned cabins. This guy was also staying here?

She gave him a proper look over without it being too obvious, and was surprised. He wasn’t too bad looking at all…and if he was in her activity group, that would be great. He seemed like a nice person too, carrying his sister’s bags for her. A true gentleman in the making, perhaps?

The guy left, and Amber carried on slowly unpacking while the other girl did the same. She made sure all her novels were perfectly in line, then pulled a small pencil case out of her bag and checked that it had everything she needed inside. A couple of pens, a handful of drawing and colouring pencils – yep, sorted.

A knock came on the door as Amber pulled her notebook out and put it on her lap, flicking through the pages of poetry and elegies fondly. She looked up and saw a girl with black hair enter the room. This second girl waved, and, delighted that there was some form of communication going on, Amber waved back. She wasn’t sure if the second girl had seen it, but she didn’t mind either way.

The second girl also started unpacking, and Amber realised that the first girl had finished and was now drawing. She should really hurry up a bit. She pulled out her last few things that she wanted on the shelf and put them there, then put her rucksack at the end of the bed. It still had a few things in it, like her knife, so she wanted to keep it nearby. It’s not like there was anything much wrong with unpacking her knife – it’s not like it would scare her bunkmates, is it? – but she just preferred to have it hidden away. It was less tempting.

The last girl came in, and Amber risked saying “hello” again. Still, there was nothing back. The silence in the cabin would have seemed deafeningly loud had it not been for the sound of the girls unpacking. Feeling slightly bored, Amber looked at the newest arrival in more detail when she wasn’t looking. There seeming to be something vaguely familiar about her, but she wasn’t sure what. Oh well.

She checked her watch, and realised that it was almost time for introductions. She slowly clambered off her bunk, being careful not to startle or kick their newest arrival who had claimed the bed beneath her, and let her feet hit the floor.

“So guys,” she said, walking towards the door. “Our introductions are happening in about 10 minutes. See you there.” She slipped out and shut the door behind her, then started striding towards the main house. She had wanted to set out early so that she could figure out where the introductions were. They would probably be held in a media room, but which one was the question.

After pottering around in the main media room area, Amber found the one for Group 4. She knocked, and peeped her head around the door. A young volunteer was in there, who invited her in. She sat down on one of the sofas next to the volunteer (it seemed rude not to), who introduced herself as Grace.

“You can watch the TV, play a videogame or whatever while you wait for the others,” Grace told her, but Amber wasn’t really that interested. She just nodded and sat there instead, twiddling her thumbs, waiting for the other members of her group to come. Perhaps if they saw that she wasn’t doing anything, they would talk to her. She was a quiet girl herself, but she did like to talk at the camp. Talking took her mind off things. She hoped that she and the other girls would all warm up to each other soon.

Amber’s Outfit


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wiley Maxtyn Character Portrait: Katarina Lester Character Portrait: Augustus L. Kings Character Portrait: Amber Edwards Character Portrait: Adam Walker Character Portrait: Autumn Branson
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Katarina silently put her things away neatly in her closet. Secretly as people came in her eyes averted to observe them without their knowledge. Two girls arrived before her, and one of them were drawing on their bed already. What the girl was drawing, she didn't know. The other girl was putting away her things as well. Katarina left the shavers in her suitcase, along with the cheesy romance novel she had. When the other girls were gone she would find time to stuff it under her mattress, but until then it stayed in her suitcase. When the last girl came in Katarina thought she looked strangely familiar. She watched discreetly as the blonde girl put a guitar case onto her bed. She must play then Katarina thought to herself.
“So guys,” the bright red headed girl said as she walked to the door “Our introductions are happening in about 10 minutes. See you there.” she finished before leaving. Katarina sighed in realization she would need to go to that as well. Introductions were never fun for the girl. Oh yes, I'm Katarina Lester. I attempted to kill myself and obviously failed, now I'm stuck at this camp as punishment Kat mocked in her head before zipping up her suitcase and sliding it under the bunk bed.
Without word Katarina left the rickety cabin as well, taking her sweet time to the main cabin. In all the black clothes she wore she was warm to say the least, but she really couldn't take off her long sleeved shit. Not without attracting unwanted attention to herself. She recalled when people from her school saw her scars.
"Why did you do that? What's wrong with you? Emo attention whore" were the sorts of remarks she got. When her doctors saw the scars she overheard a nurse call her mental.
Depression was a sickness that no one has sympathy for it seemed. If one had cancer people would be around you crying, but with depression one tells you to simply get over it. Getting over it was a lot harder than it was suppose to be.
She reached the main cabin and opened to door to see the red head sitting on the couch near a girl. The volunteer waved Katarina over and told her to make herself comfortable. She also explained the activities they had in the media room. All Katarina responded with was a nod before she sat as far from the other people on the couch as she could. She didn't mean it to be offensive, she just didn't want to take up space that they may be saving for someone else. Although around the red head she felt a bit at ease, she didn't know why.
Patiently she waited for the other people in her group to arrive. Frankly she just wanted to get this over with so she could go write in her journal.