Chapter 7: One More Death
Mark walked into the loft, and looked around. Empty as usual. Ever since Mimi's funeral, Roger had not left his room.
"Roger, you here?" he called, although he knew the answer. No sounds came to him. He shrugged and set down his camera bag. A piece of paper on the table caught his attention. He walked over, and picked it up.
"I lost the love of my life," the note read, "and I was promised that it would never happen again. Well, it has, and I can't take it. Why did they both have to die, and leave me here?"
Mark turned the paper over, to reveal nothing more.
"Roger!" she shouted, and ran to where he knew he's find his friend: the bathroom.
He pulled open the door to find his best friend lying in the tub. Roger was fully clothed, and his pants were stained red from the cuts on his wrists. His face was still wet from tears.
Mark kneeled down next to the porcelain tub, and laid his forehead on the cool glass. He moaned slightly as his own tears blurred his vision. Suddenly, his own words from weeks before came to his mind:
I'm the one of us to survive.