They hated him. They shunned him. He was worthless and useless. He was a screwup and an outcast. Thoughts like these ran through Hiccup's mind as he ran up the hill towards his house. Everyone hated him, even his own father. Hiccup slowly opened the door and walked in shutting it behind him. His dad was there. Hiccup made no eye contact. He just walked over and climbed up the stairs. He could feel the eyes of his father burning though him with disapointment. Hiccup reached the top and walked into his room, locking the door. Hiccup kicked off his boots and walked over and sat down on his bed leaning against the headboard. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. Everyday he lived his life as an outcast. The villagers shunned him and hated him. They thought him of a nusience. He hated his life. He had long ago gave up on feeling loved. Pain and hurt were his only emotions.
Tears streamed down his face. He pulled down the sleeves of his shirt revealing long deep cuts. He had been cutting himself thinking it would take away the hurt and pain, but it didn't. He cut himself and nobody even cared. They all probably wished him dead. He himself wished himself dead. He had given up on trying to impress his father. His father even hated him. He had even heard his father in a conversation with some villagers talking about him. He heard them discussing how he was a disappointment and a useless excuse of a son. Hiccup took out his dagger and slowly ran the sharp point of it down his arm, cuttting himself. He winced as the blood dripped down his arm and onto the bed, staining it. He continued this. Ever night he did this.
After his mother had died, his father no longer looked at him with love. He once heard his father in a conversation saying that it was all his fault that his mother had died. If he had just stayed inside it wouldn't of happened. Val had died of a dragon attack. She died fighting a monsterous nightmare and was killed. Hiccup just happened to witness the death of his mother and he was by her side crying when his father showed up. Ever since, his father has blamed him of her death.
Hiccup continued running the sharp point of the dagger down his right arm, blood dripping. His father wouldn't care if he was dead. He probably wished he was strong and brave. Not wimpy, useless, and a pore excuse of a viking. No one would care if he was dead. Thoughts like these ran through his head as he cut himself. He hated his life. He wanted to die. Living was the worse thing ever. He had thought so many times of taking his own life. Every time he was about to do it, a voice in the back of his head told him not to. That if he kept trying, he could make his father proud of him.
After years of trying, he gave up. It was no use. He was thinking it while cutting himself. If he killed himself, he would not have to go through all the pain and hurt. His father wouldn't be disappointed to have a son like him. His dad would be happy. Every one would be happy. The villagers, the teens, his father. It was best for the village and everyone if he was dead. No more incidents with his inventions and ideas. No more accidently setting things and people on fire. Him being dead was the best for everyone. The village of Berk would be better of with out the useless screwup of a viking.
His mind was made up. He would take his own life for the sake of the village. He put away the dagger and got off of the bed. He walked over to hes desk and grabbed a spare peice of paper and the charcoal pen his mother had given him when he was young. He wrote:
I know you will probably never read this, but if you do, I want you to know that I have decided to take my own life for the sake of the village. I know you think I'm a disappointment and a worthless excuse of a son. Well, now that burden is lifted off your shoulders. I have lived my life in pain and hurt ever since mother died. I know you blame me for her death and I don't blame you. As a screw up, it seemed obvious that it was my fault, but it wasn't. I watched her die. She died fighting a monsterous nightmare. I ran to her side when the dragon had left, but it was too late. She was gone. You don't know how many days I went through where everyone shunned me. My whole life I was made to feel that I was useless. I have tried to make you proud, but after so many years of trying, I gave up. I gave up on feeling loved. Pain and hurt are my only emotions. If you read this, tell Gobber thank you. He was the only one, aside from mother, that made me feel like I was useful. He was like a father to me. He was always there when I needed someone to talk to. Please tell him that I will dearly miss him. I am now going to join mom. After so many times of almost taking my life, I am finally going to do it. Take Snotlout as your heir. I know you were already planning to have him take over as cheif, but be careful. He has no brains. I bid you farewell forever. Take care.
Tears freely flowed down his cheeks dropping onto the letter as he wrote. After he was finished, he folded the letter and put it in his vest pocket. He stood up thinking of the best way to take his life. There was drowning, burning, jumping off a cliff, stabbing himself, or hanging. He decided on the last one. He put his boots and walked over to the chest in the corner of the room. He opened it and started fishing through the chest. He found what he was looking for and pulled out a rope.
Hiccup silently unlocked his door and climbed down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen and over to the table rope in hand. He set the rope down and took off his vest. The very vest that was made out of the same material of his father's cape. It showed that he was the cheif's son and he was the heir to the hairy hooligans. He took the note out of his vest pocket and layed the vest on the table with the note ontop of it. His journal and pen was in that vest and he no longer needed them. He grabbed the rope and walked out of the kitchen and over to the door. He opened the door, silently saying goodbye to the house. His father's heavy snores could be heard.
Hiccup walked down the hill and away from the village. He walked into the forest. The only sounds were the hooting of owls and his breathing. He walked through the forest, with only the light of the moon, looking for the perfect tree. He finally found a tree that was just high enough to hang, but low enough to tie the rope. He found a log to stand on and pushed it under the lowest branch. Hiccup stood on the log and used it to help him reach the branch to tie the rope. Once the rope was tied, he stood on the log and put the loop around his neck. He tightened the rope so and took a deep breath. He was finally going to do it. Tears flowed down his face and he kicked the log out from underneath him. It rolled away and he dangled from the rope. He didn't fight it, he didn't panic. The tightness around his neck made it impossible to breath. Dots appeared in his vision, black outlining it. Hiccup smiled, the tears still flowing freely down his face. His lungs were screaming for air, but there was nothing he could do now. There was no turning back. As black engulfed him, he whispered, "Goodbye."
His eyes closed for the last time.
He was gone.