I was too Late. Never Again.

It all started with a note on my locker saying,

Stephen, you never left my heart

….

She dropped something. It looked almost like a little a notebook as it layed there on the school sidewalk. I yelled her name but she just kept walking. I was wondering if she was upset or she did not hear me. I began to pry the crusty pages open, I flipped through them as I watched the dust explode out of each. I didn’t know what the hell this musty book was.

Full handwritten pages, not leaving a single piece of space for another letter. It was full, there were writings after writings, pictures on some pieces and even then surrounded with words. These pictures were different, not your usual flower doodles, they were sharp and overwhelming. They scared me. Pieces that were strongly drawn with intense emotion behind the black ink. This was art. Deadly art.

I took the book and decided that I would give it to her tomorrow or whenever I see her next. I thought to myself, if only she still lived next door to me. Then I could just walk it over when I got home. Nope, that was out of the equation. She moved about three years ago to the other side of town. I never knew why, I never ask. I simple just said goodbye. I have not said a word to her since. After she moved she never talked to me, but I also never saw her until this following school year. Our last year of high school. I had thought she moved to another country or something, but no she just moved to the other side of town. I never really thought about her after she moved because when we hit about seventh and eighth grade we stopped being play buddies. I really don’t know why, we used to be best friends but then I guess we grew our separate ways. I never questioned it, I began to have more guy friends and play more video games, she began to have more girlfriends, go shopping all the time and became boy crazy. Typical middle schoolers. Hah good times. Well enough with the past talk. I arrived home, my mother was making dinner and my father was in his office on a business call. My mother is a stay at home mom and my father is the full time owner of Miller Lite Beer Co. I quickly said hello to my mother and went straight to my room, plopping right onto my bed and pulled the journal from my bag. I opened it to the first page, I was so curious on what this old thing was and what it was all about. I knew I shouldn’t be reading others private belongings and thoughts, well if it was a journal, which it clearly looked like it. I just was intrigued by the drawings, most of all, how full it was. I thought to just prop it open then put it away and give it to her tomorrow. She would never know. I began to read the first couple words, my stomach flipped, I was sick, scared. I didn’t know what I just got myself into. It wrote,

If you are reading this, I have already scarred my body with screams of pain, I have already slit the flesh inches below my chin.

My eyebrows jumped with fear, I didn’t know what the fuck I just read, my stomach turned, I ran to the bathroom, threw up every single thing I ate that day. I couldn’t believe what my eyes just witnessed, what my brain just processed.

The next day I went back to school and I had the nasty journal in my backpack, so when I saw her I would give it right back. Maybe even ask her what exactly it was and why did she have such a suicidal journal of someone’s. I did not believe it was hers but honestly that was the part of me not even wanting to know. How awful does that sound, like wow I want to just give her it back and not say a word, just let someone kill themselves when I could’ve stopped it. I am a typical year of 2020 teenage boy, in this world, everyone just wants to ignore and block out all the hate and cruelness. Yeah I know I really do not want to take her problems on and make them mine but I have to. If it means saving a life, my childhood best friend’s life. So I went on through my school day not seeing any sight of her, not even a sliver. So I waited around the school where she dropped the journal in the first place. I waited for about ten minutes and I didn’t see her. I wondered if she recognized that the book was even gone in the first place, but something like that, with those words in it had to be noticeable that it was long gone away from her. My eyes scanned the whole parking lot looking for anyone, anyone at all that could be a possibility. Nope. Then my eyes wandered the the whole courtyard in front of the school, my doesn’t see a single soul but instead catches a medium sized book just lying there on the ground with no one around. I was a little confused so I walked over to the book and picked it up. There was nothing on the cover so I opened the first page to look for a name. No name. Ithen started flipping through the pages very slowly, very confused, getting very disturbed, again. Now there was something else very odd, I was so suspicious about it and a little weirded out. I flipped through all the readings and the pictures but as I came to the end, the very last page of the book  wrote,

Stephen I will not see the sunrise of tomorrow, I will not feel the rays of warmth from the sun ever again and I will never speak my soul. You have always been at the center of my heart. I love you. Goodbye Stephen.

My eyes filled with tears, I knew what she was planning and I knew she wanted me to find these journals, she wanted me and only me to know she was going to take her own life. I jumped to my feet, I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my blue jeans and dialed 911 as my whole body shook with fear. The phone rang three times before one picks up and my voice was weak and bitter like a little boy scared for his life on a roller coaster for the first time. I blurted out, “Jane Barrow is going to commit suicide, I DON’T KNOW WHERE. PLEASE STOP HER.”

I flipped the last page over to the otherside, it wrote,

Stephen you are too late. You cannot save me.