Today, you didn’t come to school.
We all were waiting for you. Not to hurt you, but to say we were all sorry.
I really was.
And I became really worried.
“Maybe she needs time.” Noah suggested. Maybe.
But a bad feeling was settling at the bottom of my gut. So I decide to go to your house.
I got your address from the authorities.
I have my ways.
I didn’t realize we were neighbours.
I knocked on your door. No response.
I turned the knobs to check whether it was licked only to find it open. I walked in.
I couldn’t hear anything.
I panicked again.
I rushed up the stairs to find you unconscious with the bottle of pills in your hand.
No. I panicked harder as I scooped you up in my arms and carried you in bridal style to the hospital where they took you in immediately. As they took you a piece of paper fell out of your pocket. I picked it up. It read
I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY, ALEX. I AM FINALLY DYING. DON’T WORRY. I FRGIVE YOU.
I did not notice the tears falling down my eyes as guilt filled up inside of me.
I never wanted you to commit suicide.
I never wanted you to go because of me.
I couldn’t live with it.
I can’t live with it.
I looked at you through the window.
But I didn’t go inside.