After the storm [Finished]

Extra 1: Memories of you (Part 3)

I ran to his apartment. I started worrying the moment I heard Ms. Jones's voice over the phone. She was a very composed woman, what did make her worry like that? Was there something I didn't know? I felt that there was something else.

I got to Alex's apartment and rang the doorbell one, two, three, and four times. Nothing. I called him, but he didn't pick up.

"Are you out?" I texted him. I waited a few minutes but he didn't reply. His last time on Whatsapp was 10 days ago.

I took out my keys, I had a spare key he gave me a while ago. The door was double-locked.

"Alex?" I called stepping into. No answer.

I walked into the room, the door was closed but it wasn't locked. He wasn't there either but the moment I walked in there, I sensed a nauseous odor, it was somewhat like rotting cabbage.

I heard music though, it was lowly, but I could still hear it.

"Alex?" I called him again. No answer once more. I headed toward the bathroom. I stood hesitant in front of it for a minute, the odor and the music were stronger and louder. "Alex?" I knocked on the door, but there was not a single sound besides the music in response.

I opened the door and the smell of putrefaction slapped my face. I had to back away for a moment. I covered my nose and mouth with a hand and opened the door with my foot. I gaged. I'm not sure if it was due to the smell or what I saw. I can't describe it well, and I don't want to recall so many details of that either. I just know that Alex was inside the bathtub, his whole body under green-yellowish water, fully dressed; he was dead.

The police got there about 30 or 40 minutes later. I had to wait for them outside because the odor was filling the whole place after I opened the doors. Everything felt like a movie, I got interrogated but I couldn't say much, I was still in shock. I just could ask the man to call Alex's mom for me. There was no way I could call her to tell her that his son was dead. Another policeman approached me later, he asked if I needed something or if I wanted to talk with someone. I must have looked terrible by the way he looked at me. I said I was ok.

After a while, the same policeman approached me again. He said they were leaving and asked if I wanted him to take me home. Just then, I realized I stood in the corridor absent-minded for more than 2 hours. I accepted his offer.

When I got home, my dad was gardening in the front yard. He rushed to me the moment he saw I was getting off the police car.

"What happened?" He asked concerned.

"Alex is dead". I said but my own voice didn't seem mine. It was as if someone else was saying those words, distant and emotionless.

I felt dad's gaze on me but I didn't look at him. I walked straight to my room, left the backpack on my desk, and lay in bed. I don't know what time was it or how much time I stayed there looking at my curtains, I guess the entire afternoon because Marcus knocked at my door and sat next to me. He patted my head.

"Do you want to talk?" He asked. I remained silent. "Can I do something for you?"

"Stay with me for a while, please". Marcus said nothing in return but lay next to me. I felt his back against mine, he knew I wouldn't stand a hug but that gesture was more than enough.

According to the forensic report, Alex took a bunch of pills and alcohol, got into the bathtub, and at some point he fell unconscious and drown. His mother called me a couple of days later. She explained that Alex had been fighting depression since he was fifteen and that he was taking medication but in the last few years his condition worsened. He started suffering from panic attacks, and dissociation. I didn't know anything about that, no one ever told me, he never told me, and I didn't notice. I felt guilty.

Ms. Jones apologized to me, for seeing what I saw. That she must have called the police first. I insisted that that was unnecessary. I apologized instead, for not being able to help his son, and probably for making him feel on edge that day we argued. I knew that had something to do with the whole thing, and I confirmed it when I received a memento left by him. He left one for his parents and another one for me.

"Ryan, I have so many things I want to explain to you that I don't know where to start". He wrote. "I will keep it short though, I feel that if not, this will turn into a bible. You're not my safe bet, you're not someone I keep close to secure a good sesh of sex, I keep you close because I love you and you're important to me. Maybe, because of the way you are and perceive love, you couldn't understand my words and actions; and I don't blame you, I'm quite the complicated jerk. You've been the light in the darkness. If I could, I would keep you all only for myself, but I can't. I have destructive habits, that have worsened with time. It's difficult for me to care about other people, and empathize with them. Everything I do is to fill the hole I have inside, and I don't want to drag you to that game of mine. I know I have hurt you, and I'm sorry; it's because I couldn't keep my distance and wasn't capable of giving up on you. I can't stand the idea of you being with someone else. You don't know how much effort I had to put in every time we met... It's not that I didn't want to see you, it's that I wanted you to see me well like the Alex you have always looked up to. That's why I started to put distance between us, it got more and more difficult over time. All I do know is how to hurt you and my parents, the only people I care about. It's frustrating and I'm disappointed with myself. It might seem despicable but I'm giving up. I'm ending this now. I love you, and I hope you can find someone that can love you as you deserve to be loved. Keep being the good kid you have always been".

Those were his last words.

I didn't shed a single tear, not once in years. Something must have been wrong with me for sure. Alex's parents invited me to the funeral but I didn't go, I felt that I didn't have the right to be there. I stayed at home staring at the wall instead.

I heard my mother insisting on me seeing a therapist, Marcus talked about it to me on behave of her, but if I went... What could I have said? My mind was blank, I felt everything and nothing at the same time. There were no words to express what I was feeling. After some time, everything condensed into emptiness. My brother was going to do his residency in New York and insisted on moving out with him.

"Getting out of this city might help you", he said.

Oddly enough, I finished college with great marks. Everyone who knew what I went through, congratulate me. After that, I moved to New York City with Marcus, I would work during the day and go to parties every night, sleep with random people, and try to fill the space Alex left empty.

But later I learned, because of someone, that that emptiness was not going to be filled by anyone. It was a scar.