He was gone. I lost him before I had the chance to help him. One of my closest friends, and I couldn't help him. In my defense, no one could help him. He wouldn't let them. He was dead inside, a walking zombie. No one ever knew just how much she effected him, no one except me. That's why I rushed to him when I heard the news. I knew he would be broken.
He didn't even try to hide his sorrow, which was rare. He gave up on life the moment hers was taken, and I couldn't blame him. It was true love if I ever saw it. Their love was like a made for TV movie, and it was cut short. I had never seen him so happy or sad before. He slid deep into depression, and didn't even bother to try to come out. Our school mates never did know the power of their love, but I did. He wanted to be with her, no matter what the cost, or who it affected. He talked to me because he knew I wouldn't make fun of him. He slowly separated himself from the only life he ever knew, and moved toward one of solitude. People began to worry, but not for the right reasons. They all wondered what was happening to their " king." Their king was gone, gone with his queen.
I heard through the grapevine the first time he tried to kill himself. He swallowed a bunch of pills, but the maids found him before the full effect could take place or the pain could numb. I rushed to his side and stayed while he tried to get better. His parents were furious at him for trying to spoil their good name. It's not like they really cared about him or anything. The second time, he almost succeeded, but was found by a teacher just in time. I was really worried. That was the second suicide attempt in a month.
We were to graduate a month after his second attempt. On the day of our graduation, I went to pick him up. I didn't want to leave him alone, but it was her birthday, and he wanted some alone time. I reluctantly agreed. When I knocked on his bedroom, I received no answer, so I forced the door open with all my might. What I saw horrified me. He had cut his wrists,
and was at a critical moment. I knew that in order to keep him alive, I should call 911 right than and there, but I didn't. In fact, I held his hand as he died. People later asked my why I let him die, why didn't I save him. I told them the honest truth. I n that moment that I saw him, he had on a smile, and I knew that he would keep trying until he could be with her, so I didn't prolong his misery anymore. I knew that when Tristan woke up, he would be were his heart and home is, with his queen.
I still miss Tristan and Rory all the time. Getting through the pain of losing two of your best friends within a three month time span was hard, but I got through it. My students often ask me how I got through it when the subject comes up. I tell them that it was simple, I wasn't done living. I tell them that the car crash that took Rory's life wasn't her fault, that she was supposed to be done living. I tell them that I let Tristan bleed to death because his heart and soul were dead and not coming back; and I tell them that my heart and soul are alive, as I am supposed to be, and that's the way I want it.