Goodbye Forever

3

After receiving the news about Lindsay's death, I stayed home from school for a week. I lost my perfect attendance record that year, but what was the point anyway? What was the point in doing well in life if the end result is the same, death? I couldn't find any one reason to live a happy life after what happened. Was this what Lindsay had intended? To ruin the lives of her friends, family, and community?

The first week after her death was Lindsay's funeral. I sat at home and wept that day, realizing the severe pain that her parents and brother must have been in. This just wasn't fair! I had known that she was suffering; why didn't I do anything about it? I hated myself more than I hated Lindsay for doing this. I didn't really hate her at all. Although, I wished that I did, which would have made the whole ordeal less traumatizing. I loved her just as I had before this entire thing happened. I would have done anything to save her.

On the Monday a week later, my mom forced me out of bed early in the morning and said that no matter what, I had to go to school. She was done putting up with my "bad attitude" and "dumb excuses". I guessed that being a good person most of the time didn't cut it; I had to be perfect to please her. So, I packed up my bag and got on the bus to go to school. The ride was quiet without Lindsay, for me anyways. To everyone else it just was like a normal school day with nothing unusual going on. But for me, it was the start of moving on, and I hated it.

I hadn't realized how the school board must have felt. They probably thought that there was a flaw in their system, but I didn't think that the school had a lot to do with it. I didn't even know what had caused her to become so depressed and suicidal. She never had told me what had happened that beautifully terrible fall day last year. Who had even called her? I felt the need to find out everything I could about her life in the past year. I couldn't just sit around and act as if nothing had happened. It was time to begin interrogation.

During lunch break, I made my way down to the guidance counselor's office and stepped inside. The place was eerily silent and empty, no other students in sight. I noticed the addition of a new poster about suicide. Was that really all the school had done to try to help?

"Hello, how can I help you?" the guidance counselor asked.

"I have a question about Lindsay," I started.

"I'm sorry," she replied, "we aren't taking in any questions from students about her case at this moment."

"I just need to know why," I reasoned.

The counselor was firm in her answer, and so, I left with no success.

After school, I stopped by Lindsay's house. There was a car parked in the front lot, so I assumed that her mom and little brother had made it home from work and school.

Nervous, I walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

"Brooklyn," her mom states in a straight voice when she sees me. "Why are you here?"

The lack of emotion in her voice scared me a little, but I continued. "I know it's a little soon, but is there any way that-"

She closed the door in my face and I heard the lock click shut from her side. What had been going on in Lindsay's life that no one was telling me?

I walked back home and sluggishly made my way to my bedroom. I looked online for answers; I searched the school website; I stalked her social media, but I couldn't find any answers that I hadn't already received. Maybe, I decided, it wasn't worth it. Nothing could have brought her back to life anyway.

I laid in my bed and turned some rock music up loud in my headphones to shut out the terrible world I was surrounded by. This seemed to be the only alternative escape to death. Maybe I did want to die, it's not like I would hurt anyone. The only person who truly loved me was Lindsay, and now that she was gone, what was the meaning of living here anymore?

In my depths of depression, I managed to make my way through school as a zombie. My grades crashed, my peers ignored me, and nobody did anything about it. This was an entirely messed up situation. I had become a victim of the undertow of depression and it was too late to escape. There was nothing that anybody could have done. I made my way home.