After You

Max

Dear Alfie,

My first day back at school wasn't the complete disaster I was anticipating.

Some people avoided me, but I expected that. Presumably they either think I'm a liar, or don't want to be on Jacob's bad side. I can't say I blame them; I still look awful. I can finally see out of my right eye, but it's still swollen and bruised. The cuts are healing and the bruises are fading to a yellowish-green rather than the bright purple and blue they were before, but my face still serves as Exhibit A on why you shouldn't piss off Jacob Rees.

To be honest, I expected everyone to keep their distance, especially Willow and Finn. When they came straight up to me as soon as I walked through the school gates and practically escorted me to the common room, I wondered if they were taking me to Jacob for Round Two, but they were full of concern. They wanted to know how I was and whether there was any permanent damage and whether I'd heard about the outcome of the inquest.

I hope you won't see it as a snub that I thought it best to stay away, Alfie. I desperately wanted to be there – like everyone else, I'm sure, I wanted answers – but it was more important that Jacob could be there without having to control his anger towards me. It was going to be such an emotional day already, and I didn't want to add to that. I've caused enough trouble for your family; apparently Jacob hasn't been allowed back to school yet. They're waiting for him to show any kind of remorse for the attack, and he's refusing to. I'd rather they just forgot about it and allowed him to come back. His education is at risk, and I'm not exactly blameless in this situation. He was wrong, but I should have done more to stop him from reading that letter. I should have put up more of a fight to swap partners. Maybe I shouldn't have written it in the first place.

After registration we all had a free period, so I sat in a quiet corner of the common room with Willow and Finn, and they told me everything that happened at the inquest. Willow's memory was patchy – she spent most of it crying, apparently – but Finn had listened intently and gave me a play-by-play of exactly what they said.

Most of it was stuff I knew. The books on your shelves and things like that. I almost laughed when Finn said that they considered whether your reading material could have been a deciding factor in your suicide. Reading Sylvia Plath and Edgar Allen Poe didn't lead you to kill yourself, any more than my collection of Stephen King books is likely to make me dress as a clown and murder children. Thankfully, they discredited that idea when it was explained that you were simply an English student and a lover of literature.

No mention was made of the kiss between Finn and Willow, or the kiss between me and you. I'm suddenly very grateful that we only really discussed it in person; I dread to think how Jacob would have reacted if any messages had been read out to the court suggesting what was going on. Finn seemed especially relieved that there was no suggestion that our behaviours led to your suicide, or that you were being bullied and coerced in any way.

He went very quiet when he talked about the discussion of your death itself, so I didn't pry too much. I don't really know what to say, other than that I'm sorry you were alone when it happened. Finn said it would have been painful, and I hate to think of you suffering alone. I wish you could have messaged me, but I suppose you knew I would have called for help. I suppose if you really wanted to go through with it, isolation was the price you had to pay.

The only new piece of information to come out of the inquest is arguably the most important. Alfie, why didn't you tell any of us that you were ill?

You were diagnosed with muscular dystrophy three weeks before you killed yourself, and none of us knew. Not even Jacob knew, apparently. Finn says he still doesn't know, because he walked out of the inquest before they got to this part. You were diagnosed with a disease that would degenerate until you couldn't control your body any more, and you kept it to yourself. I understand that it must have been a shock, but – selfishly – I feel hurt that you wouldn't tell any of us. We could have tried to help you come to terms with it.

Although they didn't draw that conclusion at the inquest, because you left no note and never spoke to anyone about the diagnosis, the only conclusion I can draw is that the diagnosis is the reason you killed yourself.

In a way, I understand it. I mean, obviously I don't understand what you were going through - I can't imagine being in such a dark place to do what you did – but it makes sense. The illness would have deteriorated to the point where you were completely dependent, and I can't think of anything you'd hate more. Maybe that was your final act of control; the last thing you could do to stop it from going any further.

While I wish you'd told us, it makes your death easier to deal with in a way. I've barely slept for the last three weeks, tossing and turning with guilt. All I could think was that the way you felt about me, and the way everybody would react, was the catalyst for killing yourself. I felt so inherently responsible, and I wasn't sure how I'd live with myself. I know Willow and Finn have been going out of their minds with guilt too. It doesn't change what happened, and it doesn't bring you back, I know that. Somehow, it makes it easier to accept it. If your death was a release, rather than an escape, it doesn't seem quite so awful.

I'd still give anything to have you back.

Max