I Want to Forget

Chapter 25

Judith Scholar is dead.....I could have helped her.....she could still be alive.  Those thoughts rang though my brain.  It had barely been 5 minutes since I found out, and yet it feels like it has been a century.  She listened to my problems when I should have been listening to her problems.  I mean I didn't know she was depressed.  I had no idea who she was.  If I would have said hi to her while I was passing in the halls, she might still be here.   Dealing with sucidal teens is like my second nature.  I spent most of my 8th grade year dealing with sucidal teens. How could I have been so self centered?  Maybe if I would have looked at her closely and found cuts then maybe I would have helped her.  She had a black eye!  Why didn't I ask about that?  I sit on the concrete, covering my face  with my hands.  I let her die.....  The bell rings and I slowly pick up my belongings.  I trudge to my English class.  I was almost late.  Carla still wasn't in class.  She has been gone for almost a month.  Maybe she got really sick, or went on a long vacation.  I am not concerned for her health, because I know she is still alive.  I hope....

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I quietly ate my lunch, and so did everyone else.  Even though my friends didn't know who Judith was, they were still grieving.  We all felt like we were a part of her suicide.  We all could have saved her.  Jackie didn't show up to school today, I understand why.  She is the reason Judith died.  Jackie might transfer schools.  Well I am pretty sure she is evil, so I doubt she is affected by this.  I wouldn't be surprised if she came to school tommorrow and asked us who Judith Scholar was and why everyone is blaming her for this girl killing herself. 

"Sorry for the interruption!" rang the intercom," But can Paris Winston please come to the dean's office!"  My stomach tied itself in knots.  Was I in trouble?  I slowly get up from my table.  The whole cafeteria was silent and looking at me.  I walked with my head down all the way to the office.  Judith was right, everyone does know me. 

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I knock softly on the dean's door.

"Come in!" He bellowed.  It was like I was in a horror movie.  When you know you shouldn't go inside the room, but it is just so tempting.  Except it wasn't tempting at all, I was being forced to go inside.  I slowly turn the knob and the door creaks open.  I peek my head inside.  The dean was sitting in a desk and two other adults, a male and female, stood next to him with their heads hanging down with sadness. 

"You called for me?" I ask. 

The dean nods," Please come here."  I walk over to the front of his desk.  "Do you know who these people are?" He asks gesturing toward the two adults.

I shake my head," No...sir," I say fearfully.

"These are Judith Scholar's parents.  I assume you know who that is?"

I nod," Yes sir."

"They have come to give you something."  I look at the parents and they hand me an envelope.

"It is from Judith..."  The father says.  I slowly reach for the envelope and take it from the mother's grasp.  Why would Judith write me a letter?

"Can I open it?" I ask.  The father nods.  I carefully tear the envelope, while everyone stared at me intently.  I take a deep breath and pull the letter out.  I unfold it slowly.  Judith had written the letter on a parchment with little anime characters on it.  Her handwriting was a beautiful cursive, it was much better than mine.  I start at the top and begin to read the letter.

Dear Paris
Once you get this letter I should be dead.  I hope you know my name by now, but I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't.  The school probably didn't even care.  In case you don't know my name is Judith Scholar.  I am an average student who likes anime.  I get bullied a lot, mostly by Jackie.  I am suffering from life threatening depression, and I might not be on this Earth much longer.  The pain is consuming me, if you knew what I was feeling you would probably do the same too. Anyway the short chat we had in the bathroom was really meaningful.  You are something special.  Maybe that is why you are popular.  But you aren't that stereotypical popular that always makes people feel bad about themselves, no you make other people feel good.  You encourage others to do things they wouldn't normally do.  You told me to wear what ever I want to wear, and the next day I did.  I felt good and actaully confident in myself.  It was probably one of the best days of my life.  Want to know what happened after?  The next day I came to school and everyone mocked me.  I'm not blaming you, but I really shouldn't have done that.  I don't know how you can live life without even caring. People can say horrible things about you, but you don't even care.  If I was more like you then I would still be here.  I wouldn't be writing this letter, staring at the rope tied up in my closet.  After I talked to you I didn't want to kill myself, but people kept bullying me.  Even that guy you like started to bully me, but he wasn't as bad as Jackie.  My letter is ending soon, and this should be the last thing ever left by me.  I really hope you figure everything out.  If more people were like you then suicide wouldn't be a concept.  Good luck Paris, and have a good life.  Maybe we will see you each other again.  Who knows what afterlife has in store for us.