After You

Jess

Dear Alfie,

I didn't expect to be writing to you again. If I'm completely honest, it felt more likely that I'd be speaking to you in person, in whatever afterlife there is.

I was surprised when they told me I'd been clinically dead, and they had to resuscitate me. I thought I'd remember some near-death experience – some kind of ghostly encounter with you, maybe, where you'd turn me away from the bright light and point me back towards the land of the living, with some sage wisdom. Suicide isn't Hollywood. I know that now.

I told the counsellor about the letters I wrote to you, and he suggested that maybe I should write one more – to help myself see how far I've come, more than anything. It's been six weeks since the overdose, and I'm getting ready to be discharged from the hospital. A couple more days should do it, and then I'll be free. Well, not "free", but I won't be seeing the same four whitewashed walls every day, which is something.

It would be easy for me to focus on the upsides of what happened. The others have visited as often as they can, between revision and exams and all the normal stuff you're allowed to do when you're not stuck in a psychiatric ward. Thankfully, the only bed they had available was on a teens' ward, so there are Playstations and stuff, rather than dreary group therapy sessions and finger-knitting sessions like they have on the adult unit. Still, it's been nice to have company, and to make sure they're all doing well.

Sometimes they all visit together, sometimes separately. No-one is arguing any more, which is good. I thought Jacob had really blown things with Max for good, but Max has forgiven him. He's even been helping him to catch up on the work he missed when he was suspended. Max is currently tearing his hair out over exams, which is ridiculous. He's been given offers from all five universities that he applied to, and he's on track to do much better than his predicted grades. Mrs Newton has been telling him to consider re-applying for Oxford, but he doesn't want to. He keeps saying he wants to stay nearby, but I think it would be good for him to get away. We'll still be here when he gets back.

Willow and Finn are more in love than ever. I know you won't mind me saying that. You'd be happy for them – they're living their life, and enjoying themselves. It's lovely to see. They're a good match, and – I don't just say this because I was insanely jealous when you two got together – Finn is a much better match for her than you were. We both know there are other reasons for that, though. Willow got a few university offers too, so she's trying to decide which one to go to. I think Finn is going to apply through Clearing and try to go to the same one.

Jacob is doing really well. I don't know what his plans are for next year – he hasn't said anything about university, so I don't know if he's decided it isn't for him – but he really seems to have turned a corner. He was so angry and isolated all the time after you died. It was like a personality transplant; all his humour and playfulness seemed to vanish overnight. It's taking some time, but it's finally starting to come back again. He spends so much time here that they sometimes feed him as well as me at mealtimes!

One of the biggest catalysts in me deciding to take that overdose was my parents. At the time, all I could think was that they hated me, and they wished I'd died instead of you. Dad was never around and Mum seemed to have checked out mentally and emotionally, and I just felt like a constant disappointment. Dad changed his hours at work, so now he does three days a week from home, and works at a satellite office on the other two days, so he's closer to home even when he's gone.

Mum and I argued a lot at first, even on the ward. She was furious at me for attempting suicide, after everything she'd been through when you died. I lost my temper and asked her how she thought I felt, and it's like a light switch flipped in her head. Suddenly she seemed to remember where we were, and she looked around at everything – all the equipment and the drips and my face – and burst into tears. She cried for ages, and then she held my hand and apologised, and we talked – properly talked, for the first time in years – until visiting time finished.