The Day Music Died

Chapter 2

Song for this chapter:

Replace You (Acoustic)- Silverstein

I knew my mom wouldn’t be home. Work consumes her whole life. It takes a lot for just her to aid for the both of us. Getting a job never crossed my mind. Although working would help us, it's never been a priority. I close the door behind me, the warm air inside a contrast to the nipping wind outside. Tears prick at the corners of my jade eyes. My knees are weak and I immediately collapse with my back against the door. I sob loudly into my hands.

This can't be happening. First, music is banned, and now Blair is gone. It's too much to even comprehend. My heart aches as I recall being with Blair only last night. I shouldn’t have let her leave last night. If she stayed over maybe she’d still be breathing. My eyes burn from the excessive crying and my chest heaves. The overwhelming feeling of hopelessness consumes me. The familiar feeling of depression clouds my thoughts. I don’t attempt to fight it because I know I can't win. I let the dark cloud swallow me whole.

After I finally caught my breath and stopped crying, I headed to Blair’s house. Before I left I peeked in a mirror and was horrified at my bloodshot eyes and wet stained cheeks. I didn’t care enough to straighten myself up, but now, as I stand before the Sander’s house, I regret not paying attention to my appearance. I softly knock on the large wooden door hoping no one would be home. I was in no state to be confronted by people, let alone Blair’s mom or dad. A small silence fills the pause before Blair’s dad opens the door. It always pained me to know that Blair and her father had such a great relationship, whereas I barely remember my father.

“Hello Jacey. I assume you’ve heard,” He chokes on his words and pauses, “about Blair.” Saying her name must be pure torture for him. I can see the tears forming in his sorrowful eyes. Without a response I run into his arms. His strong arms wrap around me. Although jealousy was present when I was with Blair and her father, he always treated me as if I was part of the family. He's a kind man, and the closest thing I have to a dad.

Mr. Sander leads me to Blair's room. Awkward silence fills the air as we walk up the stairs. Fright fills my lungs. I've been in Blair's room hundreds of times, but now, without her here, it feels colder and darker. I step inside, with Mr. Sander right behind me. Her room looks like it always has. Posters scatter the dark colored walls. There’s a pile of CDs on her table. Articles of clothing are thrown around the room. Her bed has the dark blue comforter made neatly. I walk over and sit on her bed. I grab the grey bunny that she's had since she was four.

“She left you a note on the dresser,” Mr. Sander speaks. I look up at him and he nods before leaving me alone. My heart races and my palms get sweaty. I stand and spot the envelope on her dresser. In neat cursive, my name is written. I carefully rip open the envelope and unfold the paper inside. Tears begin to fall and I haven’t even read a single word.

Dear Jacey,

I know you're upset with me, heartbroken, and angry, but I couldn’t do it anymore. You mean the world to me and without you I don’t know what I would have done. I love you so much. You’ve been with me till the end and I am so thankful to have you. When President Mead announced that the only other thing besides you that was keeping me alive was now illegal… I couldn’t imagine a future anymore. Tomorrow seemed impossible and I was scared. When you asked me to stay, but I refused I wasn’t thinking straight. I guess I wanted to soak in my misery alone. I knew that I should have picked up the phone and called you. I should I told you that I needed you. But I didn’t. So now you're here reading this. Jacey, I'm so sorry. I know I'm probably putting you through hell, but then again maybe I'm not. Maybe you're relieved, but I hope not. Right now, I'm scared. I really am. I don’t want to do this. But I do. I think I've over stayed my welcome. Not many people will miss me. And right now, it just hurts to keep breathing. Jace, I just want you to know that you couldn’t have helped more. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Please keep fighting; I know it's hard, so I won’t make you promise. Just remember that you’ll forever be my best friend.

Love always,

Blair xoxo

I read it again. And again. And again.

I cry again. And again. And again.

I fold the letter back up and shove it into the envelope. My whole body begins to shake. The tears don’t stop and I don’t try to stop crying. I collapse onto Blair's bed and wrap myself in her blankets. It smells just like her; crisp, cool mint. I cry more at the thought of her. Her suicide note is purely painful. I can't believe she even thought that I might be relieved that she's dead. I didn’t think my heart could shatter anymore, but it did. I stayed in Blair's bed for hours. Mr. Sander never stepped foot in her room again or told me to leave. I swear, I felt my heart shrivel up in my chest.

That night, I slept in my best friend’s bed. I dreamed about her all night. Well they were rather nightmares. I woke up in the dead of night sweating. The image of Blair's sliced wrists haunted me. Sleep was impossible. At 3am I get out of bed and sit at Blair's desk. Mead’s plan on confiscating music was obviously slow. Blair and I still had all our CDs and music players. I pop in Blair's favorite CD and keep the volume low. I understand her motives, but just wish she talked to me first or didn’t commit.

I open up Blair's laptop and search about the music ban. There are hundreds of articles already about the new law, but one in particular catches my eye. As I click on the article, I realize what I'm doing. It's 3am, and I'm on the internet looking up information about President Mead… at 3am. I must be going crazy. I brush away my thoughts and let my curiosity take over. I click on the article.

President Mead Increases Suicides with New Law

On Sunday, November 14, President Mead announced the new law on music. He banned music from all men and women. His intentions were apparently good; however, an increasingly terrifying consequence had emerged. The teen suicide rate in less than 24 hours has increased greatly. Predictions of the incline of suicides have been made. It seems that Mead’s intentions to keep teens safe have driven them to the edge of life itself.

I gape at the introduction to the article I just read. My brain is a bit fuzzy from the lack of sleep, but I am very surprised. Actually, it makes sense. Music helps so many people, let alone teens, and banning it would obviously be detrimental.  Knowing that Blair is or will be one of the many kids who committed makes me shiver. I desperately want to know more about this inclined rate and how the president is dealing with these consequences.

Today has been so stressful. Finding out about Blair’s suicide was enough to push me over board. I shut the black laptop and walk over to where I left her note for me. Instead of reading it again, I examine the paper. Small dried tear marks scatter the page. I can picture Blair sitting at her desk writing this as she cries. She must have spent a long time planning out this letter. Each sentence has perfect grammar and spelling. Even her penmanship is flawless. These details would cause me more suspicion if Blair wasn’t an anal perfectionist. I let my eyes roam the page, taking in each word, one last time. My eyelids grow heavier by each passing minute. I place the letter down and climb into bed, praying for restless sleep.

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Hmmm do you think Blair's suicide/ suicide note is suspicious?

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