Richard, he was different.
On the outside, stable. Flawless. He had a lot of friends, smart, played the guitar, ambitious, full of dreams and I loved him for it.
I was at the age of 15 when I first saw him in my freshman year, I knew he was unique. I've never felt anything like this.
Yes, from outside, he looked almost perfect. But inside, a broken soul. His parents abused him physically and verbally. He cut himself to escape the pain, scars well hidden and every night he came to my house and we talked about life.
Richard and I were best friends. Honesty and trust. We could talk about anything.
Actually, that's a lie.
Almost about anything.
I never told him that I was in love with him.
I never told him that I cared about him more than a friend.
I never told him, hang in there, I'm here for you. I should have and I blame myself a lot for his fate.
You know, when Richard was 17, he had really bad family problems. I tried to help him as much as I could.
The only things that kept him sane, were his art and music but those changed to pain. The songs he wrote, were evil. Poems about death and suicide.
His art used to be so beautiful, but later on, it turned into a horror. A lot of it scared me. Pictures and paintings about his parents - lying separately on the floor, blood everywhere, angry words written in red. I should have helped him. I should have done something...
The night, he came over, like usual. I heard a knock on my window, I let him in immediately. He looked at me frightened, terrified, shaking in cold. Late January, outside at least -15° and he wasn't wearing a jacket. Instantly I covered him in my blanket, he grabbed it tightly, around him.
"What's wrong?" I asked nervously.
"I'm scared, Riley" he responded, eyes glazed on the floor.
"What are you scared of?" I quietly continued. No answer. He kept on shaking, I snuggled in his embrace and we laid on a bed, slowly drifting into sleep.
The next morning when I woke up, he was gone. I thought he went home and we will see in school. So I dressed and left for school. I was the invisible, a ghost, floating through the school.
As soon as I walked into school, my heart skipped beats. Something was wrong.
Next to the lockers, were hundreds of roses. The closer I got, the more intense the pain got. Then I saw Richards pictures, candles beneath. I fell on my knees, cried breathlessly while screaming in agony. The rest was numb.
I was never the same after that. I still remember his smile. Those happy moments. I cry myself to sleep, every night. Knowing that Richard will never knock on my window again. Killing himself, he killed me with him. Every tear shred after was only for him...
