The night of our big day finally came. Tom bought a bottle of fine champaign. We made a toast to good friends, and great ideas. We shared our last laughs, and our final excitement.
Then, it was off to the beach. We drove an hour to get to the shore of the Atlantic ocean. In the darkness,we unloaded the cinder blocks out of Matt’s car, and headed to the dock.
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Chrissy asked, as I bound a cinder block to her feet.
I smiled, “Yeah, I really do.”
Once we were sitting, the cement tied to our feet, we swung our legs over the edge, and passed around the cups.
“Drink up,” Tom said as he handed me a small paper cup filled with a horrid smelling liquid.
It burnt upon touching my tongue, like fire pouring down my throat. However, I was still able to push myself into the ocean. The last thing I remember is slowly sinking down through the blue water, seeing blurry figures of my friends sinking along side me.
It really was a great plan. Our bodies were never found.