Troubled Teen

Chapter 1

Sophomore year 2019

"Don't worry Autumn I'll be alright; I'll see you at school tomorrow" sent by Justin at 9:30pm April 7th. 

Monday, April 8th, 2019

I still remember that text, the last text Justin sent me. It wasn't until school the following morning that I never found Justin. He was probably skipping out on school, like what he did on most Monday's. But he always arrived during our 3rd hour Health class, and he was never there. Something felt wrong with that. My heart would break when the announcement's started.

Justin Harper has died.

My mouth fell open, my heart exploded inside, and I felt tears fall down my face. People began looking around and knew that Justin was my best friend. Me and Justin were the best of friends since 3rd grade. I asked my teacher Mr. Thompson if I can head to the bathroom, he told me I could. I quickly rushed to the bathroom, locked the stall door and began crying. Justin left me without saying goodbye, and there's nothing I can do to keep him here. How did he die, car crash? Murder? or worse, suicide? There are so many possibilities, but the message he sent me last night, might have answered my question, he died by suicide. Justin Harper was my everything, my best friend, my hope, my helper, Justin Harper was the only reason why I was passing in school. From outside of the bathroom, I heard 2 girls walk inside. At first, I didn't recognize their voice until they called my name.

"Autumn?" said Emma softly.

My head rested into my knees as my pants began to get wet from the tears that rolled down my eyes.

"Autumn, you, okay? Me and Emma are here to help you" responded Bella.

I looked up to the bathroom door and from the bottom of the door I saw their shoes peeking from under the doorframe. I didn't have any words to say to respond to their question, I felt dead, completely dead, my best friend, my best f**king friend was dead. I raise my hand up to the lock of the door, but I bring my hand down. I wasn't ready, at least not today. I waited 2 minutes before standing up.

"I'm fine, no need to check on me" I replied to them, obviously lying.

I opened the door and wrapped my arms around them happy to see them.

"We got worried about you seeing you run out of health class. So, we came to check on you, let's head back to class, lunch will start soon" said Emma smiling. 

When we stepped inside our Health class, our teacher was typing away at his computer and most of our classmates were doing homework from other classes or on their phones. I sat down in my chair and next to my chair was an empty seat, which belonged to Justin. I carefully placed my hand onto his seat, his seat, the seat that Justin sat in each day, next to mine. By the time the bell rang, I went to my locker, got the stuff for my next class, placed it in my locker, and hurried over to lunch seeing my friends already at the lunch table. I got in line for lunch. I got my lunch which was the school lunch, chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes, corn, gravy and milk which I always went for the chocolate. I sat down next to Bella which on the other side of me was an empty seat which belonged to Justin. Me and my friends always sat in the same lunch table, in the same seats every day. I began to eat my lunch.

"So, how is your guy's day going so far?" asked Noah.

My friends responded with their day was good, mine obviously not being good.

I decided that after school, I'll ask my parents to see my therapist because other than my friends, I needed someone to talk to about Justin. I didn't want to tell my parents about Justin's death because they both knew how hurt I would be. I needed to make an excuse to see him. 

After school, I began my depressed march towards home. Upon entering I smelled beer. Every single day my father would drink himself a can or a bottle of beer with his lazy ass on his sofa not caring what any thought of him, and my mother, sitting at the kitchen table sobbing her eyes out, and drinking herself to death because after being a police officer for 20 years, she was for no reason let go of her job. I headed upstairs, tossed my backpack into the corner of my room, dropped my sketchbook onto my desk and headed downstairs.

I walked into the kitchen, kissed my mom on the cheek and grabbed a box of frosted flakes, and poured them into a bowl and without using any milk, I walked upstairs and back into my room where my Dog, Shaggy, was laying on my bed. I turned on my tv and turned the channel to were Scooby doo where are you was playing.

By the following week, announcements were given that teachers were mailing out report cards to parents of the students. I went back home that day to seeing my dad. furious.

"The fuck is this Autumn" my father yelled as soon as i opened and closed the front door before I spotted my report card in his hand.

"All fucking F's, mother fucker Autumn, I taught you fucking better" my dad continued to yell.

"Dad, please I can explain" I tried saying.

"Bitch, like the fuck you can explain this shit, you better give me a good fucking reasoning, or I'll slap the living shit out of you" he said throwing my report card onto the ground.

"Look, my friend, Justin, he took his life last week, and it hurt me so bad that I couldn't focus in school" I said slowing crying.

"You know what Autumn, I'm glad Justin killed himself, you don't deserve to be my daughter" and before I knew it, he slapped me. I rushed upstairs, tears flooding from my eyes, as i ran into my room, slammed the door shut and locked it and laid onto my bed. Shaggy nudged his head into mine and licked my cheek.

"At least you care" I said to Shaggy smiling as I wrapped my arms around him. Across my bedroom walls were pictures of me and my friends, Justin included, and my times I used to be in softball. Sitting on top of my shelves were signed pictures from professional baseball players, and trophies I got from my time in softball. I felt my hands begin to shake. I hope that what my dad said about Justin, he didn't mean it, he was probably angry, at least I hope. Now, how will I go to my therapist without my dad getting mad. Guess I can ask my mom, or what is left of my mom.