*Lewis' Point of View*
It was the early hours of the morning when I heard something fall to the ground at the door, and slowly, I got up from the couch. I noticed the pile of envelopes, sitting on the doormat. I gave a little sigh, and scooped up the letters, reading them, and then giving a confused look. There was a note on one of the envelopes, and I raised an eyebrow. The handwriting looked familiar. And that's what worried me. I knew what had been happening, I knew that people had been hurting him. Vik. And I knew that he'd been contemplating this for a while. For a few months. And I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn't help him. I couldn't save him. I couldn't keep him safe. Or protect him. I was stuck, watching it happen.
Carrying the pile of letters to the living room, and dropping them onto the table. Looking at the couple snuggled up on the couch, and then to my boyfriend, I felt the anger bubble up inside of me. I felt angry at them, at myself, and at the world. Landon, who had been cuddled into Lachlan looked up, and then looked at the pile on the table. I noticed the worry in his eyes, the concern for someone that he betrayed. The concern that he had for someone who had never once hurt him, but who he had hurt – on several different occasions.
'I hope you're all happy!' I said, my voice steady but full of anger.
'What? What did we do?' Lachlan said, letting out a little huff of air. He didn't even realise what had happened, he had no clue that the boy who he had once loved so deeply, so purely, had finally cracked. He didn't know, or he didn't want to know.
'He didn't...' Landon asked, his voice shaking slightly. He knew, he knew just like I did. But we were helpless to do anything. We couldn't do anything. We couldn't stop it now. We were too late. We had failed. Failed ourselves. Failed our friend. Failed at the most basic of human functions.
'I don't know...' I said, my voice sounding lost. I guess I knew that he had, but didn't want to let it out. I picked up the letters, throwing the three boys theirs and leaving mine on the table.
'Baby, are you okay?' Simon asked, looking up at me from where he sat on the couch. I nodded and headed for the door.
'I'm going to go give these to the others...I'll be back later.' I said, leaving and heading down the street. Preston. Rob. Jerome. Mitch. Ben. Five letters, five houses, five people who let him down. Five people who need to know what they have caused.
As I walked up the steps of Jerome's porch, I gave a little sigh, knocking lightly on the door, and waiting patiently for it to open. And when it did. I noticed that the person who opened the door way very familiar. Ben! And that's when things clicked into place. Vik was innocent. Vik hadn't hurt Ben, Ben hurt himself, and blamed it on Vik. Jerome took Ben and cared for him, but believed that it was Vik's fault. Thrusting the three remaining envelopes into the boy's hands, I turned on my heels, bolting down the path. I needed to hurry. I needed to stop him. But I knew that I was already far too late to do anything. I had taken my time delivering the first two letters. I had stopped to talk to both boys, I had stopped to talk to Brandon, one of the other jocks, one of the few who hadn't gotten involved with everything, and I was too late. He would have been gone long ago.
As I reached Vik's house, I noticed that there were no lights on inside. The house seemed to be empty. But I knew. I knew he was inside. I cautiously opened the front door, and slipped into the house. It was quiet. Too quiet. I glanced into the living room, nothing, no sign of life. Turning to the stairs, I took them two at a time, noticing that there was someone in the bathroom, someone crying, holding something. No holding someone. Vik.
Dropping to my knees, I let the tears flow. There was blood pooled on the floor, some still wet, but most was dried. His arms were completely shredded, the blade still clutched in his hand, which lay limp on the floor, his eyes were closed, and there were dried tear tracks on his face. He was still. He was gone. He was dead...
'Lewis...' Landon called out, he was the one gripping Vik's lifeless body. 'I couldn't save him...This is my fault,' Landon sobbed, the tears still pouring down his face.
I just sat there, watching as the blood continued to dry, watching as the remains of my friend stained the floor. And watching as he was set free from the pain he had been burdened with.
It took a few months before everyone could understand what happened, but I had cut ties with everyone, including Landon and Simon. They had been the ones to hold me back. They had stopped me speaking out about the abuse. About the trauma. And they were the ones to cry the most at the funeral. I just stood there feeling nothing. Feeling empty. And sad. I hated them, I hated myself, and I hated the school for letting this happen.
And I knew that there was a reason for this all. One boy fell in love. But that boy didn't have a choice. And by the time he could make a choice, he was dying inside. Messages had wounded him, pictures had cut deeper, sentences had put the nail in the coffin, and the abuse had hammered them in. He was gone before anyone could even realise. He was gone before he even knew. His name now etched into the stone, his body now six feet under, and his soul now in the skies. The Lilac Skies.
