Fourty.

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(None of this is real in my world. Maybe in yours it is, but this hasn't happened to me specifically.)

There's this girl. She was sixteen. In her desk had a note, which some of the words were smeared, only in a little circle, though. It was similar to the one on the stool at her house.

Wait, I failed to mention she was hanging there. Hanging from a rope. The rope was attached to the top of the stairs. The cops say she must have jumped, she only suffered a little. Only a little. She still suffered.

I knew her. She was my best friend since childhood. I knew she wasn't okay, but she was genuinely fine when I went to band practice. My mom came to pick me up suddenly and took me to her house. She had a grim look on her face, but I ignored it.

The note on the stool had read:

"Dear Best Friend,
I'm sorry, you don't deserve this much pain. But I will always be with you, protecting you.

Dear mama and pa,
I love you.

Dear world,
You hurt everyone I love. I hope you're happy...

Goodbye"

I saw her as soon as I walked in. Nobody had touched her, her parents hadn't called the cops yet. I slowly reached up and lifted her while my mom undid the rope. I carried her to her room, her bed freshly made with tear drops on it.
This must be recent.
I brushed her hair and changed her into her favourite dress and jewelry, made her look her best. She wouldn't want me to do that, but I'm in shock. So I have to.

I asked everyone for a moment in the house to clean it up by myself. They left for lunch.

I grabbed the rope and pulled it to the top of the stairs, making sure the knots were firm.

I wrapped it around my neck, and jumped...

"I'm sorry mom, dad. I had to go to. She's my best friend.
Check her desk at school.
I love you"

I love you"

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