When I was 12, I got new friend, he was energetic, friendly and all around awesome guy. He quickly became my best friend.
When I was 13, I started noticing bruises on my friends body, and I wondered how long has he had them, but no matter how much I inquired him about them he didn't tell.
When I was 15, I noticed that my friend started to act differently, he started to fake his smiles, looking sad when he thought that no one was looking, he ate less and acted out more, not much but still noticeable if you really looked.
When I was 17, my friend finally told how he was really feeling, what was happening home, and I was shocked but at same time not. I already kind of guessed everything, then I swore to him that no matter what I was with him, I would help if he let me, that I would always be there for him no matter what. And then my friend smiled, not fake one like his smiles usually these days were, a real one, one that was kind of sad but had little bit of hope in it.
when I was 18, I moved out of my parents place, not because I wanted place of my own but because my friend was moving out of his. And I decided to move with him, so that he didn't need to be alone and so that he had someone with him when he needed it.
when I was 20, things with my friend looked lot better that they did few years a ago. He smiled more for real and was generally more happy.
when I was 21, his depression came back... Or maybe it never left.
at 23, my friend started therapy.
at 25, I found my friend on bathroom floor,
and by then it was already too late.
A few weeks later at his funeral, there were not lot of people.
Only a few friends, a mother who never was there for him and brother he never knew he had.
And I stayed the longest.