A/N: There is a mention of suicide in this story so if you are not comfortable with reading this sort of thing I advise you to skip over this story. My friend has recently committed suicide and like most of you on this site, writing is a great way to let all the pent-up emotions out. I thank you all for reading this in advance and telling me what you think.
It's like a hunger that couldn't be satisfied; a thirst that couldn't be quenched; a fire that could not be extinguishing; a pain that would just not go away. It hurts like the stab wounds of a thousand knifes ripping deep into your skin that slowly, painfully twist and turn until you can't stand it anymore. Tears flow like a waterfall down your face and you gasp for some resemblance of air as you try to desperately pull yourself together. But no matter how hard you try, you cannot get a grip on sanity and that alone can drive you over the edge.
It doesn't make any sense. He was fine a few days ago. There were absolutely no signs. Yet, when the cops show up at your door and tell you they found him in his room with a bullet wound straight to the head, you feel as if you're about to lose yours as well. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and they find you a chair to sit down on before your legs totally give out on you. It is hard to imagine him so weak, when the last few months you've known him he's seemed strong.
Things had just started to get better for the two of you. You'd go to his house every Saturday night to have dinner with Amy, Russ, and the kids. You'd stay for a few hours and talk about the previous week and plans for the next. You had just begun to open up to him and show him the real you. You had just begun to feel like a family again. But in true fashion it was stripped away from you in a heartbeat and you can't breathe again. You feel the walls that they had all knocked down build right back up but this time stronger and taller. You begin to wonder if he did the same thing. Maybe he was locked in so tight it was hard for him to get out and thought the only way he could get out was to end it all.
Thoughts are spinning wildly around your mind and you hardly hear what the cops are saying and you just nod your head and decline any notion for help. You don't realize when they have left. You are becoming numb inside and there are so many questions left unanswered.
Was it in any way your fault?
Why weren't you more perceptive of his feelings?
Why did all these things happen to you?
What were you going to do?
However all of these questions led to the biggest question that was probably never going to be answered. A question that would haunt you and puzzle you for the rest of your life.
Why did he do this?
You may begin to think of some things later on down the road but you would never know if your conjectures were correct. No one would ever know the real reason because the only one with the answer was no longer here.
You are in shock. You vaguely remember grabbing your cell phone and, too stunned to speak, you text the one and only constant in your life and ask him to come over. You do not wait for a response and instead walk over to your couch and curl into a ball, pulling a quilt over your shaking body. You sit there for awhile finding interest in the lines of the coffee table that eventually mesh together in a way similar to which you are feeling when you stare at it too long. After ten minutes you hear footsteps and his voice. He knocks on the door a few times but you don't answer. You don't say anything. You CAN'T say anything. You are too stunned to speak. You know he will eventually realize the door is still open from the recent visit and in a few seconds when he tries the knob you hear the squeak of the door and the padding of his feet across your carpet.
He says your name again but you're still frozen, staring at no particular object now. The things you see don't make sense anymore. Nothing makes sense anymore.
He is by your side and kneeling by you now. He is calling your name but it doesn't register.
He has taken his own life. He is gone forever. You will never be able to tell him you love him again. You can never officially forgive him for what he had done. He will never know that you forgave him a long time ago. So many things that he needed to hear and you needed to say will never be uttered. It's a tragedy and it's your life. Yet you still don't understand why you have been put in this Shakespearean-like drama where everyone dies in the end. You don't understand and you will never understand.
He is calling your name once more and you think of how he will never say your name again. How you are no longer anyone's daughter. How you are now an orphan again, only this time it is permanent. Any little bit of hope you had when you were younger is crushed into a million pieces and you can never put them back again. This causes tears to begin to form in your eyes as you think about what should have been, could have been, and will never be. As a sob escapes your lips his strong arms are wrapped around you tight and you know he will not let go until you tell him to. You never want to tell him to.
He begins to whisper in your hair, still completely clueless as to why your are acting this way. You immediately feel guilty and feel like you need to give him an explanation. You look up from his chest and into his eyes. He is searching you for answers as you are trying to give them to him. You know he finds something by the way his eyes spark with recognition but you don't know what he finds until you try to open your mouth to speak and he puts his finger over your lips, effectively silencing you.
Now is not the time, he is telling you. You can tell me when you're ready.
You are so thankful for that, for him. He holds on tighter to your wracking body as you try to hold on to your strength. However, he is having none of that. With one stroke of his strong hand on your fragile back the tears come out freely and without regret. You cry like that for a good half hour and he never loosens his hold. You begin to feel dreary from all the emotions. You are not used to feeling so much. He reads this clear as day as usual and picks you up in his strong arms. You are too weak and tired to protest, plus you secretly love this feeling. You snuggle into his arms as he carries you down the hallway and into your room. With a tenderness you haven't known in a while, he sets you down on the bed and tucks you in like a child. You are not embarrassed by this act like you normally would be; strangely, you are touched.
Touched that he'd spend so much energy and time with you and for you when you needed it most. Touched that he was always there when he said he would be and always gave one-hundred and ten percent to please you. Touched that no matter how hard you may have fallen and how many pieces you had broken into, he was always there to support you and get you back on your feet. He was not ashamed of you and he did not pity you like everyone else who knew your story did. In fact, he was understanding and kind and you only grew closer to each other after your secrets had been shared. You were so touched by him in general that the words escaped your mouth before you could think better of it.
"Please stay."
END
