Suicide is such a powerful word. Who would’ve thought that seven letters could have so much meaning? I never believed it would be me to experience it firsthand. Colton, your wondrous eyes could make anyone feel important and cared about. But now that you are gone, no one will ever have the chance to see them again.

That day, five years ago, when I first met you, I instantly knew that we would be best friends. It was the first day of middle school, and as I looked down the hallway full of confused kids trying to find their classes, I saw you. Your strikingly beautiful blue eyes shimmered in the chaos of the crowded hallway. Your eyes met mine and it felt like they were locked in time. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I turned away. No one ever noticed me, and I hardly had any friends. All of a sudden a muffled “hey” approached my ears, and I looked up to see you. You were tall for a 12 year old, with dark brown hair that covered your forehead, and a wide smile crossed your face. “My name’s Colton. And by the way you have something on your face.” You said with a grin while your finger pointed at your face to illustrate where you were talking about. My shaking hands quickly lifted up to my face where a sticky substance remained from that morning’s breakfast. Syrup. “Oh.” I gasped, a little too loud. I could feel my face turn red hot from embarrassment. You chuckled loudly but your magnificent eyes never left mine. “It’s okay. I just thought you should know.” You said while giggling. After a few seconds of watching you, I joined your laughter. That instant, will forever be engraved in my memory.

After that day, every time I saw you in the hallway, you would mock and tease me. It had become a daily ritual, so that one week when you weren’t there, I noticed. I sat in class and wondered to myself what was wrong. I came up with many different scenarios in my head on what had happened to you. Whenever I would walk down the hallway, a piece of my life seemed to be missing.

When you finally arrived back at school it seemed as if nothing had happened. As if nothing was wrong. But it was. You would still tease me in the halls and every time I asked you what had happened, you changed the subject. In time, we became greater friends and had created a special bond.

On the day of our 7th grade field trip, is really when I considered you one of my best friends. It was dreary outside with dark gray clouds over head. We were getting on the bus to go see a play. I was the last one on, so my eyes wandered from occupied seat to occupied seat trying to find a place to sit. I could feel multiple pairs of eyes staring on me and it took everything in me to not look down. A knot was tied in my stomach and I kept swallowing nervously, looking back and forth. “Find a seat, Gabrielle!” Mrs. Keyser, our history teacher, yelled. Giggles could be heard from the rows of unavailable kids on bus seats. I turned to face her as my mouth drooped open and I shrugged. All of a sudden a familiar voice sounded from the back of the bus. “Gabby, sit over here.” It was you. My head whipped around and I saw the blue sparkle in your eyes glancing at me from over the seat. I tried to nonchalantly stroll back toward you, but I couldn’t help to awkwardly scurry. That same nervous feeling occurred in my stomach again. When I finally reached your seat, you let me sit on the inside next to the window. “Thanks.” I murmured quietly. Your eyebrows raised as you nodded, keeping your eyes on mine. I turned away and looked out the window as a loud grumble of thunder could be heard. Then a collection of raindrops pattered leisurely on the window. I tried to concentrate on the sound of the rain hitting the glass and block out the loud chaotic noise of the other voices on the bus.

Eventually after many moments spent gazing out the drenched window, I felt you gently nudge your elbow into my side. “We’re here.” You said as you stood up and looked around. I gathered the courage to stand up as well, and all I could think was, why can’t I just stay on the bus? I was perfectly fine looking out the window. You and I were the last ones off, and all your friends signaled for you to walk with them. “Nah. I’m staying with Gabby.” A grin spread across your face as you playfully bumped into me. “Whatever.” Your friends said as they rolled their eyes and continued walking. “Why do you call me that?” I asked you with my eyes stuck on the ground. “What? Gabby?” I slightly nodded and said, “Yeah. Nobody calls me that except you.” “Do you not like it?” A surprised look rose on your face as we gathered into a single-file line to enter the theater. “Well. I-uh.” I stuttered. “Not really.” From the corner of my eye I saw you shrug and whisper with a wink, “Oh well. Gabby.”

When we found our seats, I highly expected you to ditch me for your friends and it was a surprise you didn’t. You motioned me to sit beside you and of course I didn’t resist. Eventually the play began and the lights dimmed. Every so often I could feel the presence of your eyes on me and my entire body felt hot. During the entire play, all I could think about was you. I thought about how much I wanted to be your friend. I thought about how you accepted me when you weren’t obliged to. I thought about how much I needed someone like you in my life.

Talking to you became a daily tradition. I always wanted to be around you. I enjoyed the long talks that we shared every weekend at our favorite spot in the park. We would sit on the park bench by the big oak tree every Saturday and talk. We could talk for hours about anything and everything. Little did I know that the guy I thought I knew turned out to have been hiding something deeper than I ever expected. “What is the meaning of life?” You asked me once. Your lifted your hand up to your mouth and started chewing on your thumb fingernail. My alert eyes turned and glanced at you as this caught my attention. “Well what do you mean?” I asked. “What is life all about? Why is it so special?” This question caught me off guard and I sat for a few moments contemplating the answer. A cool breeze rustled the leaves behind us. The sky was a strong navy blue and the street lights had just turned on. “I-“I began. “Never mind. Forget it Gabby.” You interrupted while you stood up and stopped chewing. “It’s getting pretty late. I’ll walk you home.” Later that night, I lay awake thinking the real meaning of life. I came up with many answers in my head. Every night to this day I think that maybe if I shared them with you, I could’ve saved your life.

Our friendship grew stronger as the years went on. We practically did everything together and hardly got tired of each other. Of course there were rumors, that we were something more than friends, but they were all false. You were the first real friend I had ever had, and that’s all I ever wanted to be. When you asked me to the dance sophomore year, the year before you died, I was entirely caught off guard. You had told me that you were planning on asking Crystal Harrison, because you had been crushing on her for awhile now. I would listen to you talk constantly about her. Her smile, her personality, her hair, her scent, her eyes, her everything. Secretly I always wished someone would talk about me the way you talked about her. It made me jealous not because I liked you, but because she was constantly being drooled over. I wanted to be like Crystal Harrison. Even though I envied her, I still encouraged you to ask her, but when you knocked on my window in the middle of the night to ask me, I was completely surprised.
It was a cold December night and I was doing some English homework, warm in my bed. My house was quiet and still and not a sound could be heard, except the flipping of pages of my English book. All of a sudden, a soft tapping sound seemed to come from the window to my left. At first I thought it was my imagination, but when it happened again a little bit louder, I quickly got up. I grabbed the softball bat propped up against my closet and headed towards the window. My blood was rushing through my veins as fast as a racing river and my heart was quickly beating. I pulled open the curtain and looked through the glass. Two recognizable eyes looked back at me. The same beautiful blue eyes I’d grown to know and love. “Gabby. It’s me.” You spoke in a quiet muffled tone as you put your hand on the glass. “Open up.” I dropped the bat, unlocked the window, and opened it as you stepped through it and into my bedroom. “What are you doing here Colton?” I asked completely surprised. Your face was bright red from the cold, and your hair was slightly messed up. It had an attractive look to it. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a ticket. You fiddled it with your fingers for a moment before looking up at me and saying, “Do you want to go to the dance with me? Just as friends though. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” I hesitated for a moment before answering, “Well I wasn’t planning on going. I never go to dances. It’s not really my thing. But what happened to you going with Crystal?” “Well.” You paused and all the emotion drained from your face. It was as I was looking at a different person. Your glowing blue eyes suddenly turned cold and dark. “I guess she’s going with Kyle.” “Oh.” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.” Kyle Walker was the captain of the football team and very much a ladies’ man. It was a typical choice for Crystal. “You deserve better than her anyways.” The way you looked at me caught me off guard. It was as if you were looking through me not at me. You grinded your jaw and your eyelids stayed open. The light suddenly appeared back in your face as you said, “Oh well though. So-“You started then all of a sudden a knock came from my bedroom door. A sleepy voice called out, “Gabrielle, who are you talking to?” Mom. “Oh no one. I’m just watching a video on my computer.” I didn’t hesitate before answering back. You stared at me with your eyes wide with panic. “Okay, well you need to be getting to bed. It’s late. Goodnight, sweetheart.” I said goodnight in return and let out a deep sigh. “You could’ve gotten me in huge trouble!” I said as I pushed you. Your face rose into an ornery grin as you through your head back laughing. “You need to leave, before my mom comes back.” I said with my eyes fixed on yours. The laughter stopped and you asked, “Well are we going to the dance or not?” You sighed and crossed your arms. Your eyes were heavy with tiredness. I crossed my arms too and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Whatever. If it makes you happy.” With a huge smile on your face, you playfully hugged me, handed me the ticket, and wished me goodnight as you hopped out of the window and jogged home. I constantly think if I ever really made you happy. If I ever made you hold on a little longer. If something I said or did made you think, I’m not going to kill myself tonight. It won’t be tonight. If only I could go back to this night and relive it all over.
Due to weather conditions, the dance kept getting postponed until it was finally canceled. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened that night if the dance never had gotten canceled. Would I have done something that would make you change your mind about suicide? The thought passes through my head occasionally, and I try to block it out. It’s so hard to be without you. Every day I think about that morning. That morning that forever changed both of our lives and many others. It makes my heart ache with pain and tears fill my eyes every single time I think about it. About you.
December 18th. Junior year. About a year after you asked me to the dance. That morning, I woke up and got ready like I usually did. Little did I know that the news waiting for me downstairs would change my life forever. I put on some jeans and a red t-shirt, your favorite color. My hair was down and wavy, like it normally was, and I applied some mascara while looking at myself in the mirror. I hardly ever wore makeup, but I felt in the mood to that day. It soon would be in messy streaks down my face. I pulled on some socks and stepped into my tennis shoes, with the strings already tied. Then I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, unaware of the two policemen sitting in my living room. When I approached the doorway of the living room, I stopped before entering the room. My eyes glanced back and forth from policemen to policemen to my mom. My mom’s eyes were red from crying. “What-“ I began before being interrupted. “Honey, it’s about Colton.” Those words repeat in my head at least a hundred times a day. “What about him?” I stood up straight and my eyes were wide with curiosity. All of a sudden my mom put her face into her hands and started sobbing. One of the policemen named David went to comfort her. “Mom. What about him?!” I shrieked. She looked up and her sorrowful eyes met mine. “I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.” I still remember the exact nervous feeling that I felt at that moment. It never leaves. Thoughts rushed through my head as I came up with many things she would soon tell me. “What happened?” I said quietly. My eyes fluttered to the floor as I heard my mom say in a sympathetic tone, “He killed himself last night.” I closed my eyes and a tear fell down my cheek. Inside me, it felt as if someone threw a huge bowling ball and hit me in the stomach. I sank down to the floor and wrapped my hands around my knees. Tears started falling down like rain. I could still hear the thunder inside. Every loud rumble shook me harder and harder until I finally couldn’t feel anything anymore. My entire body went numb and I was in complete shock. “No, no. He didn’t. He- he couldn’t have.” I wept. My mom hobbled over to me wrapped her long arms around me. She brushed the hair out of my face and stroked my head. Her soothing words filled the emptiness of something deep inside that I will never have back.
I eventually calmed down enough for my mom to explain what had happened. “This morning when his mother went to check on him, she found his body on the floor of his room. He had cut his wrists.” She looked me in the eye and her eyebrows drooped inward. It had felt like my heart had stopped. My vision became so blurred by the tears in my eyes, that she was an unrecognizable figure. I didn’t know her anymore. I didn’t know anything. I blinked multiple times, but the tears kept coming. She kept repeating the words I’m sorry, over and over. I shook my head constantly, in denial as to what they told me. After what had felt like hours of endless sobbing, David cleared his throat before saying, “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.” He turned from me to my mom for approval and she nodded. “Are you up for that?” My mom’s voice was soft and light as she spoke. I felt her gentle hand rub my back as she guided me to the couch. The other officer named Wayne handed me a box of Kleenexes and I took one and thanked him. “Did you ever notice some signs that Colton was suicidal?” I closed my eyes and tried to think back to any possible moment. Nothing. There was nothing that I could think of. Nothing that had made me think that you wanted to kill yourself. This was not the Colton I knew. You would never do anything like this. “No.” I murmured quietly. “He was always outgoing and full of life. He would never do a thing like this.” “Did he ever mention that he was unhappy in any way?” I shook my head and continued answering the officer’s questions. After many minutes of questioning David said “One last question, did you know that Colton’s dad was very abusive?” This question caught me off guard and I looked him directly in the eye. “What?” I said entirely confused. “Colton never told me that.” My voice trailed off and a sudden urge of betrayal made my insides burn. I told you everything. All of my deepest darkest secrets, everything. Why couldn’t you confide in me? Did you not trust me? I thought to myself. Then the officer continued, “Apparently five years ago Colton’s father found out that the mother had an affair and Colton was not his son. That’s when the drinking and abuse started.” Of all the times I spent with this family, it turns out I didn’t know them at all. Feelings of shock and confusion consumed my body as I asked, “Did Colton know?” “When we questioned the mother this morning she explained everything to us, but she said that she never told Colton about it. The father is being charged for domestic abuse as well.” David’s words escape his mouth and make me cringe at every syllable. Through trembling words I managed to ask, “Can I see his room one last time?”

The officers and my mom were very hesitant about letting me see the room. I convinced them that I might find something of importance that they missed. Eventually they finally gave in and drove me down to your house. I had been there many times before and I always thought your dad was a normal guy. Every familiar house we passed, my gut clenched tighter as we neared the house. I was so lost in my thoughts that at first I didn’t hear Wayne tell me that we had arrived. My hands shook as I opened the car door and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. I glanced up at the two-story white house before me. The same house, with the rickety porch, peeling white paint, and untrimmed lawn that I had seen a thousand times. But it was different now. It had changed. The yellow police tape surrounding the yard gave an eerie feeling to the old house. Wayne led me up the steps of the rickety porch and unlocked the door. As we walked inside, all I could think of was what these walls had seen. Their quiet eyes had seen abuse, death, and who knows what else. We climbed the steps to the second floor; the same steps I’ve grown familiar with. I headed straight to your bedroom and stood before the old wooden door. Do I dare enter? “You don’t have to do this. We can leave if you want.” Wayne spoke as if he wanted me to turn around and walk away. “No.” I muttered back. “I need to do this.” My hand reached for the knob and I slowly turned it knowing that there is no going back.
I wasn’t prepared to see what lay in the room before me. Your bedroom was abnormally clean, which was very unusual for you, except for the large red stain in the middle of the floor. I tried to close my eyes but they wouldn’t shut. Something was forcing me to look at the room. “You said that this room wasn’t touched?” I turned to face Wayne. “The only thing that was moved was-“ He paused and his eyes dropped to the ground “His body.” Those words made my stomach ache as I continued. “It’s too clean. Colton never cleaned his room. It was always a mess.” Wayne looked up as he grabbed a notebook out of his pocket and dotted down what I had said. For half an hour I walked around the room, browsing one item to the next. When I had just about given up, I noticed a small brown leather notebook hidden in the vent next to your bed. I opened the vent and pulled out the notebook. It wasn’t dusty, which only meant that it had been written in recently. I slid it under my jacket and told Wayne that I was ready to go.
Once I got home my mom was waiting for me at the door. “Are you okay?” Her considerate green eyes showed me sympathy. I shrugged and said, “I just can’t believe he’s gone. It makes no sense.” I then told her that I was tired and I was going to go take a nap. When I arrived in my bedroom, I sat on my bed and pulled out the notebook. It was very plain and had nothing written on the outside. My heart beat fast as I flipped open the cover. I skimmed through the pages from your earlier years until I found an entry from 6th grade that caught my attention.
Dear Journal,
A few days ago Dad came home drunk and hurt my mom and me. It was very unlike him to do this. It’s never happened before. He slammed Mom against the wall and beat her until she was purple. I cried out for him to stop, but he just came and beat me up too. The fighting has just recently started and I try to listen to what they’re saying but can’t ever make it out. I don’t understand why my dad would do this all of sudden. I thought he loved me. I just got back from the hospital where I had been for a few days because of what Dad had done and I’ve missed school. I bet Gabby is wondering why I’m not there to pick on her. She’s really nice and can make me laugh. I hope she never finds out why I was gone.
Tears stung in my eyes as I tried to fight them back. This must’ve been when your dad found out about the affair. I continued to read the journal entries. As the years went on, the abuse got worse. You would talk about how no one could ever find out what your dad was doing to you, especially me. I then found another article which was somewhat recent. It was the night that he asked me to the dance.
Dear Journal,
Dad came home drunk again tonight. He hit me really hard in the stomach with his metal baseball bat. I probably deserve it. It’s starting to bruise, but what’s one more bruise, right? Oh well. I just got back from asking Gabby to the school dance. I’m so glad she said yes. She is one of the only people I can trust and I’m glad we are best friends. Some days I really want to tell her about what’s going on in my head, but then I think I better not. I know she’d be there for me. That’s the kind of person she is, loving, caring. But another side of me doesn’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want her to stop being my friend because she’s scared of my dad. If she sees how scared I am of him, she will probably be the same way. I put on a smile for her. I don’t want her to see what I’m hiding deep down.
By the time I’m done reading the entry, my stomach feels completely empty. Bursts of heavy tears fall down my face and I’m on the urge of exploding inside. Many different emotions race through my head, but I can’t concentrate on anything except the pain of losing you. It takes everything in me to continue reading, but I know it has to happen. I finally get to the last entry, which was written last night. I’m still sobbing greatly and I know that this is the last thing you did before you killed yourself.
Dear Journal
This will be the last time I write. Tonight is the night. I’m tired of being a coward and not doing it. My dad’s been right. I am worthless like he’s always said. The other day he even told me to go ahead and kill myself. So that’s what I intend on doing. A few weeks ago I overheard my parents arguing and found out I’m not my dad’s real son. No wonder he doesn’t love me and could care less if I’m alive. I hope Gabby understands that what I’m doing is not selfish, but what needs to be done. I know when I die tonight she will cry, but I want her to stay strong. I never wanted to hurt her. I love her and I always will. She’s helped me in so many ways and I can never thank her enough. I want her to know that she’ll be the last thing on my mind when my heart stops and the life is drained from me.
Good bye Gabby, my best friend forever.

There are so many things I wish I could rewind. Things that I wish I could relive and find a way to save you. My heart aches when I think of you. It feels like I’ve lost the most important thing in my life, that person that changed me. You made me who I am ever since that first day in 6th grade. I was just a shy girl wanting to crack out of her shell and our friendship gave me the strength to break out. Every day I think about some of the signs that might’ve been right in front of me. Signs that something was wrong. Maybe if I noticed them, I could’ve done something. I never knew what was going on inside your head and at home. But instead, my best friend is gone. And I will never see those beautiful blue eyes again.