The night before my brother's funeral I shut myself in my bedroom and started writing a note, tears splattered on the paper, making the ink run.
Whoever finds this,
I cant take the stress of my brother's death. I am leaving this world to join him. I leave my land to England, I trust he will make good use of it. Nobody can blame themselves for my death, it was my own decision and nobody influenced me. My only request is that I am buried next to my brother.
-Alfred F. Jones
I set the paper on my desk then walked over to my dresser. I pulled out the gun and sat curled up in the corner of the bedroom. I cocked the gun and pressed it to my temple.
"I love you and I'm doing this to be with you," I whispered. I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.