December 14, 2017
By Anonymous

     I can still hear the ambulances in my head. The flashing lights. The screaming. Why? He was bullied to that point. The point that suicide was actually an option. He saw no way out. He was my best friend for years. I saw him get bullied but never said anything about it. Never did anything.
     “John. Hello. John,” said Ms.Smith.
     “Hm? Yes Ms. Smith?”
     “Are you still with us?” The class laughs.
     “Yes ma’am, I'm right here.”
The bell rings,”Alright, tomorrow we will talk about suicide.”
     “WHAT!” I yelled. The class goes silent.
     “I said tomorrow we will talk about grammar,” she says in shock.
     “Oh um... sorry I thought you said something else.”
     “It’s alright just go on to class dear,” she says while pushing me through the door.
     It happened almost a month ago, but yet, it's still on my mind. Everyone else has forgotten about it already. How can someone kill himself, and yet, in a month, it’s gone from everyone’s mind? Never to be spoken of again. His name was Edward. I called him Ed, but most people called him Edward. It all started when Ed and I were freshman in a new school having to make new friends. He joined the group of kids most people stayed away from. The weird kids that no one liked. I was in the popular group. The group of kids who made fun of them, who tripped them and laughed as they lay on the floor. For some reason, Edward was picked on the most, and I never did a single thing; never laughed, never helped him, never even said anything to the kids who did it. I would just sit there. He was a kind hearted person who never deserved that type of treatment. Once summer came, I never saw much of Ed; he was never out he would never answer text and would stay in his room all day. By the time the next school year rolled around, he was not the same person. He would walk with his head down towards the ground. He would acknowledge nothing around him. Edward was gone, faded away from the punishment of the year before. He was a ghost of his past self.  He kept to himself, and only himself. That made him an even bigger target. He got picked on more that year than the last. He was shoved into lockers, slapped repeatedly until the hand prints of the person was stained across his face, and beaten almost every day. He would always get up and walk away. He never fought back or even asked for help, but I never thought he could do... that he would do it.
     One day, he didn’t come to school. I was worried, so later that night, I went to his house. On my way there, an ambulance passes me. I immediately think what if? I rush behind the ambulance following it to its destination. It turned out to be a car crash. Once I knew that the ambulance was not heading to Edward's house, I continued on. I reached his house and saw him and his family eating dinner like they did every night. The second day he was still not at school, I thought he might have been sick or had a family matter he had to attend. He wasn't at school for a whole week. I thought I might check up on him once more to see if he was still okay. Pulling up to his house, I see the ambulance, the flashing lights, and a body bag. They said that he slit his wrist while in the bathtub. I pictured it in my mind as soon as they said it. He drew a bath making it to his liking. Once he did that, he put on some old clothes and got in the bath. I could see him staring at the wall crying because he thought there was no other way to stop the harassment, the torment. He took a razor blade and slit his wrist, making sure to go all the way up his arm. As he did the same to the other arm. In a matter of minutes, all the blood from his body pushed out of arms in to the bathtub. He sat there pale in a bath overflowing with his own blood. He sat there just as how I sat when I watched him be bullied every day not saying, not doing, not anything.
     That was the hardest month I have ever faced in my life. I was depressed. Feeling like I was in a life of darkness and despair because I could have stopped it. I could have prevented it.
Suddenly, I was pushed into a locker, “Watch where you're going.”
     It was the kid who picked on Edward. The kid who beat him senseless and then laughed at how he would bleed. My body immediately went into action. Something had come over me full of anger and hate. I punched the kid in the face with the force of a thousand fists. He was immediately knocked out. I pummeled him as his friends watched. Watched as how they watched him beat Edward but the other way around. His friends pulled me off of him, and as they did, a teacher came. I was sent to the office, but the other boy sent to the hospital put in critical condition. I was expelled for the rest of the year and was not allowed to return ever again. It was said that he would possibly die, and if he did, I would be put in jail for murder of the first degree. Unfortunately for me, he did. I was sentenced to life without parole. At least I know my friend has been avenged. Although the consequence is that I am to rot in prison for the rest of my life. I can’t have… No, I won’t have that happen, so I grabbed the bed sheet off the mattress and tied it to a hitch in the ceiling. I knew taking my life was not the way. There could be a different way, but truly there wasn’t. I was cast away into a prison cell, never to see the light of day again. All for avenging my friend who killed himself for something someone else did. It’s unfair...life is unfair. I want it to be over, so I tied a noose in the sheet put it around my neck and hopped off my bed. I am left to hang while I began to suffocate. I turn a crimson red and began to choke on my own blood, and as I hang I look just like I did before.  Not doing, not saying, not anything.

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