Dear Kayden,

Preface

"Kayden?" I call, but I receive no answer as I step foot through his front door. I take a quick glance behind me to my friend, Emory's, car to let her know that I am going inside. An eerie feeling washes over me the moment I close the door behind me. I can't explain exactly what it is, but everything inside of my best friend's once so comforting home feels completely off.

I had Emory take me to his house this morning because I had left my bag here the last time I was over. For all of the years I had known the both of them, they had never been close. I was the median between the two, always balancing back and forth since they never seemed to bond well enough. I wished more than anything that they could get along since I cared so much for them, but not everything works out the way you want it to.

I softly rap my knuckles against Kayden's bedroom door once I climb the stairs and walk down the hallway. Still, the only response I receive is a cold silence. I reach for the doorknob and twist it, letting myself into his all too familiar bedroom.

My entire body goes rigid when I am faced with the horrific sight that lies before me. It's as if I have no breath left in my lungs, and my hands shake violently as my knees give out beneath me, causing me to fall to the floor beside Kayden's limp form.

"Kayden?" I whimper, bringing my unsteady hand to his face. I immediately shy away from the feeling that his cold skin and warm, flowing blood sends down my spine. It must have happened rather recently due to the deep red that still gushes down the side of his face. I simply can't bring myself to look away from his mangled body. I pull the sleeves of my sweater past my palms to avoid the blood and lean over him, grabbing either side of his face. I look into his eyes, once so blue they'd take your breath away, but now they've faded to a dull gray with a certain glaze hazing their surface. The tears fall from my eyes and onto his pale, sunken cheeks, mixing with the crimson to make deep pink streaks. I gently run my fingers through his hair and begin to sob harder as my fingers tangle in the black locks that are matted with blood.

"Kayden? Why'd you do this?" I ask, my voice very quiet and distorted from the tears. When I open my mouth to speak again, my voice comes out at only a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He still looks like my best friend, a very sullen version of him, until you see the ghastly hole that the bullet left in his temple. I carefully bring my fingertips as near to the wound that I dare to go, and my eyes follow the trail of brains that litter his carpet. I then look to the gun that lies beside him, his arm outstretched with his fingers still curled lifelessly around the trigger.

My knees give way and I curl up into a ball near his side. I close my eyes, imagining him as he was. His blue eyes shining with life, his smile radiating joy, his touch gentle and warm against my skin. I try to remember when that all went away; when he lost his will to keep going. I try to grasp at a logical explanation as to why I didn't see any of this coming. I knew he had been different lately, but I never knew it was to this extent. He's my best friend, I was supposed to see these things even when he was hiding them from everyone else. I was supposed to help him. He was never supposed to leave me.

When I open my eyes again, all the comfort of picturing him alive instantly disappears. I reach my hand out and place it on his chest as I lay beside him. Part of me hopes to feel the steady rise and fall from his breaths and the soft beating of his heart beneath my palm, but I know that part of me is foolish to even have such a thought. Instead all I feel is cold. Everything is cold.

I manage to find the strength to take my phone out of my pocket and dial 911. My mind seems to enter a blur as they pick up, asking what my emergency is. My voice is frail and weak as I force the words out that there has been a suicide. I give the address, and I hang up once they say someone is on the way. I drop my phone on the floor then, the case and screen now splotched with blood from my hands, and return to my position at Kayden's side. I lay with my back against his side and my hands wrapped around his limp arm.

By this point the tears have slowed down, and the only thing that I can feel is a treacherous numbness. My eyes stay glued on the pieces of his brain that lie just a short distance from me, Kayden's arm acting as a barrier between me and the gory mess. I recognize that I should feel something, whether it be sadness or disgust at the sight my eyes are beholding, but I can't seem to feel anything at all anymore. All there is now is a deep, empty chasm where Kayden's life should be.

It feels like hours have passed by once the paramedics arrive. I hear them burst through the front door downstairs, but I don't have the energy or will to let go of Kayden and go to them. It takes a few minutes before their footsteps come up the stairs and through Kayden's door. I listen to their voices, giving orders on what to do with his body and telling me to get up, but I don't make any effort to move. I tighten my grip on his arm as they get closer. I can't let him go.

One of the bigger, stronger looking paramedics crouches beside me, careful to avoid stepping on any brains, and tries to reach for me. I retreat closer to Kayden, away from his grasp. He reaches for me again, talking to me although my brain isn't able to register his words. I feel his hand grasp my arm and I try to yank it away from his hold.

"Don't take him away from me," I say to the man, my voice not as loud as I intended it to be, yet loud enough to rip through the haze that I had been in. Panic begins to rise up in me as the other paramedics close in, all preparing to take Kayden's body.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we have to take him," the man I had spoken to says, not even a hint of remorse in his voice. He reaches for me a third time, but he doesn't do it with hesitation anymore. His grasp on my arm tightens to a point of pain as he uses force to pull me away from Kayden.

"No!" I shout, struggling with all of my might to get away from the paramedic. Once I lose my hold on Kayden's arm and feel myself being lifted away, I kick and scratch at the man that holds me, thrashing around in a desperate attempt for escape. Another one of the paramedics helps to restrain me, and I realize that my fight is hopeless. The two men begin to carry me out of the room and I try my best to get one last glance at my best friend before he disappears from my view forever.

I stop trying to struggle out of their grasp after I lose sight of Kayden. I know that there is no use, so I let the man carry me to the top of the stairs.

"Can you show yourself out?" he asks, slight agitation in his voice. I don't say anything to him as I turn away and begin my descent down the stairs. Every step feels like another mountain separating me from Kayden. By the time I reach the bottom I know that there is no getting back to him.

I slowly walk out of his house, afraid to see Emory and explain what happened. My hands tremble as I step through the front door frame, already opened from the paramedics making their entrance. When I look up, I see Emory standing by her car, tears falling down her cheeks and a confused expression on her face. Jocelyn, Kayden's mom, stands beside her as well as Maverick, Kayden's brother. Emory must have told them that the paramedics were here. The three of them all look up at me as I approach, and I watch as their faces fall at the sight of me covered in blood. Maverick is the first to say anything. He steps closer to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"What happened, Lorraine?" he asks, as if it's not easy enough to assume. My eyes meet his and I can see the tears that threaten to fall.

"He's dead. Kayden is dead."