I don't know what to do at first. Timothèe- he's playing a prank. I wait for him to pop up and start laughing, or yelling, or absolutely anything. But he doesn't move. His body lays there, contorted. Tears well up in my eyes and my throat tightens, and my breath fails me.
"T-Timothèe." I whisper, trembling. I rush forward, grabbing his wrists, feeling for a pulse. There is none. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head, and his cheek is wet from drool and froth spilling over his lips. I look at the nightstand, where an empty pill bottle lays. I grab it. Alprazolam. Xanax.
"Timothèe," I whimper. He's gone. And our last conversation...
I bend over his body, sobbing. I couldn't explain the pain I feel. I feel like all my muscles are searing, like I'm suffocating, like my throats going to close up and cut off all my air.
I sit up, snot dripping from my nose and landing on his chest.
"Timothèe," I cry. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I'm sorry."
Part of me expects him to cough, to wheeze, anything. But he lays there, in the same crippled position he has been, completely pale.
"Noah!" I scream. He comes walking in and leans against the wall.
"I wasn't here when it happened." He clears his throat.
"It's all my fault." I inhale deeply and wipe the snot from my nose with my sleeve. "He saved me and I killed him. I could never get over this."
"What do you want to do?" He asks. Part of me wants to beat the shit out of him but it's not his fault. And another part of me wants to kill myself.
"Not call the cops yet. I can't do all of this right now." I tell him through sobs.
"He left a note on the kitchen counter." Noah hands me a crumpled and folded piece of paper. I snatch it from him, and unfold it with trembling hands. A few tears drop on the paper, making the writing blot. I start to read his messy handwriting.
Anya,
I don't know what I did to deserve this from you. I couldn't have felt anymore pain in my whole life... But don't think this is your fault. I love you so much, and I have from the day I laid eyes on you. The relief I felt from saving you and protecting you as best as I could was the biggest reward in my life. And maybe that's why this hurt so much. But I don't hate you. I still love you. I love how hard you try to save me, and protect me, but you couldn't save me from myself. Nobody could. I've wanted to die for a long time. I considered it every single day. To breathe was pain. But I had you, and you needed me. You made things easier. And just this morning I realize I lost you, and so I have nothing else anymore. You were all I had, and I lose you. I now have no purpose. And people with no purpose shouldn't be in this world. I love you. I'll be watching you.
Timothèe
I stare at the page in my hand, my whole body shaking. Tears fall from my eyes but I'm not crying.
No. No. You haven't lost me.
I cough and shove the piece of paper in my back pocket.
"Where's my phone?" I ask Noah. He runs down to the truck and grabs it. I dial 911.
"I have... My boyfriend just committed suicide. Please send help." I cry into the phone and set it down. Then, I wait to see the blue and red lights flash outside.
