Gone (Ianthony)

Three Months Before

Anthony:     

The house was quiet. 

Silent.

Aside from my sobs and staggered breathing, everything was still.

I sat on the edge of his bed. His covers were tucked neatly into the side of his matress. He never made his bed.

I held the note in my trembling hands. The pen marks were smudged from my tears, but I had every word memorized after reading it through a good thirty times.    

anthony,

i'm Sorry. i couldn't dO it anymorE. i hAd to gEt out. you have to undersTand. but knowing i left you tHere alone just makes It so much WoRse. i'm so sorry. being Here Is juSt too Much. i'll miss you moRe Than you Will evEr undErstand. antHony, I lovE you. so mucH.

-ian    

When I woke up this morning, it was weird to notice Ian wasn't awake yet. And then I realized that last night was his pre-end of Rise night, and that probably meant he was locked up in his room under all his covers even though it was the beginning of summer and it was really hot, staring up at the celiling and thinking.

So, I threw a few pieces of bread in the toaster and casually went down to his room, expecting to find a closed door and no response. 

But his door was open.

And he wasn't in his room.

And then I saw the note.

And I had to read it three times before comprehending it.

And after thirty, it still hasn't sunk in.

Why? How? When? Why?     

He didn't kill himself. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. Right?

I guess it was possible. Maybe that's why he was having such a significant Rise. It would be his last one. He wanted to make the best of it.

But I couldn't believe it. It was too hard to imagine my best friend. Dead.

I put my head in my hands and clenched my teeth. 

I had already called the police. Told them what happened. They sent out something called a "missing persons report" which apparently applies to both the person and his dead body.

Maybe he was just leaving for a few days and then would come back like it was nothing. Or maybe he left permanently and planned to never see me again. Or maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere.

I read the note again. I furrowed my eyebrows.

It took thirty-one reads through watery eyes and uncontainable sobs, but I realized something.

Capital leaders in the middle of words.

Why?

I thought for a minute.

I stood up. Grabbed a pen from his desk.

I wrote down the random capitalized letters.

S, O, E, A,E, T,H, I, W, R, H, I, S, M, R, T, W, E, E, H, E, H    

I stared at the letters. 

And right then, it hit me like a baseball bat to the chest.

Ian wasn't dead.

He was alive. 

Somewhere.

And he wanted me to find him.