Honest

Chapter 2 (Honest)

"So tell me one thing, Honest Andre Woods. Did you ask her out?" Andrew said as we sat on the swings eating mountain top Ice Cream.

"And if I didn't?" I asked, he squinted his eyes at me and licked his ice cream. "I did, calm down, calm down." I laughed softly and watched his expression change.

"Had me scared for a second Mr. Woods." He always said my name properly which made me feel important. I laughed to myself and shook my head softly.

"Did you listen to Bmikes' song Anxiety lately?" Andrew asked. I shook my head.

"Is it a new one?" Andrew shook his head. He was serious when it came to music, especially Bmikes'.

"He said this one verse that really spoke to me!" I nodded and started listening intently.

"What'd he say?" Andrew smiled softly and looked at me.

"He said ' these days I just don't feel shit, I don't feel nothing at all I don't feel like I exist, that's why I need my fix so I can just feel something, how do u describe the word empty try to describe the word nothing, wait fuck that use my name as the definition' It spoke to me so good." I looked at Andrew sadly and saw that he was crying hard. His Ice cream fell in the dirt and he just kept crying. I dropped my ice cream also and knelt down in front of him. I used my shirt to wipe his tears. "I'm not okay Woods, I'm not okay." He repeatedly said that and I started crying too. His voice was cracking and it put so much pain in my heart. He held onto my shoulders and dropped his head. Every day I saw Andrew break, but he never tried to let us see that. If he had to smile to make you believe he was okay. He would. But these were the things no one else got to see. No one but me.

"Andrew, look at me." He didn't raise his head, he just kept crying. " Look!" He slowly raised his head and his eyes locked on mine. Tears streamed down his face in a flowing rhythm. "You are worth more than you feel. Trust me, I know sometimes you feel like shit and I understand that. But don't let that dictate your life. You are more...so much more, than what you see yourself as. Understand that. Please." He wrapped his arms around me and I held him. Andrew is my very best friend. I trust him more than any of my friends. He's been through everything with me. And I'm here for everything he's going through also. He's more than a friend to me. He's my family.

I waited till he stopped crying and I helped him off the swing. We got in the car and I drove him back to his house.

After I dropped him off I didn't see him for a couple of days which is unusual. So I thought id drop by his house. Now, mind you, his mom doesn't stay with him neither does his father. They're both dope heads who always want a fix. Probably why he turned mentally unhealthy. I drove to his house and knocked on the door. He didn't answer. I knocked twice more. He still didn't answer. His car was here but maybe he's sleeping. Or someone took him somewhere. I grabbed the key out of my pocket and started to put it in the keyhole. I turned the key and opened the door. A horrible stench flew to my nose and I almost threw up. That stench was a death smell. Like the smell of someone who died. Then something clicked in my head and I ran upstairs to his bedroom. His door was locked and I pushed up against it. Slamming against it with my body. It wouldn't open which meant he had something in front of it. The smell got stronger and stronger and I started crying. I went to his mom's room because it connects to his. That door was locked also and I slammed against it hard. My body was hurting but I didn't care. As long as I knew he was okay I wouldn't care. I wouldn't want to care. I slammed against the door one more time and it slammed open falling off the hinges. I looked up at the ceiling and my heart dropped. He was hanging from the ceiling, the rope tight around his neck, a soft smile plastered on his face. The rope started to break piece by piece. His eyes were slightly open and his body was pure gray. You could see the veins in his body pushed out more than they should be. It was such a horrible sight to see. His neck was a dark purple almost black. I fell to the floor and cried.

"How did that make you feel." You should know. Shouldn't you? How would you feel if you're fucking heart got ripped away? You're other half broken in half. But he was so happy that he died. So happy that the pain he felt was washed away. Now you tell me one thing. If your best friend killed themselves. Would you ask yourself how did that make you feel? Or would scream at the person who asked you that very question.

"You're my fucking therapist. Not my fucking friend."