A year into his new job Allen had almost completely withdrawn.

On the few occasions he did answer his phone, there was always a reason as to why he couldn’t go out to visit the family, or just hang out with me.

Everyone said I was just over concerned, that he would get back to his normal self once he found his “rhythm”.

As time went by Allen stopped answering his phone altogether.
I would stop by his apartment but there was never an answer.

After about a month of this I decided to skip school and stay by his apartment door. I was able to get by the front door by walking behind someone who lived there. They gave me a strange look, but said nothing.

I waited all day by his door. Whenever someone passed by I would ask if they had seen him.

Most didn’t know the apartment was still occupied. They figured Allen had moved out.

No one had seen him in about two months.

Someone must have complained to the landlady because she came up yelling at me, telling to stop loitering.

Once I explained to her who I was (and after slipping her a twenty) she gave me the key to the apartment and told me that if Allen stops in to pay her the rent he owes her. She got tired of waiting for him to show up.

I waited for her to leave before I opened the door.

When I did, there was an odd aroma in the room.

There were 117 messages on his answering machine. Some were from me and the family, the rest were from his job.

He hadn’t shown up for work for three months, and now they were going to sue him for breach of contract?

There was still food on the plate in the kitchen. Well, it was less food, then it was a glob of mold that had covered it. The sink was just as bad, nothing had been washed, and was now a breeding ground of bacteria, and fungus. The smell was bad, but not the one I had smelled when I entered.

I tried to find where the original odor was coming from, which lead me to the bathroom.

That’s were I found him.

The note simply read “I can longer handle the immense amount of stress that comes with my job. I wish that I could just leave and get on with my life, but I am under contract. If I quit I can get sued for everything that I have. After going over my options, I decided that this is the best one available. Do not cry for me, it is far to late for that. Instead pray for those in my situation, pray that they find a way to deal with the stress and anger, because there are more out there like me”. Signed Allen Griffin

There I was, sixteen years old, looking upon the lifeless body of my best friend, literally lying in a pool of his own blood in the bathtub.

His eyes were sunken into his skull staring at the ceiling, as if waiting for something.

I knew he did not find what he was waiting for, and he never will.

I stopped going to school soon after the funeral, there was no point in attending. My parents never said anything about it, in fact, they never really said anything to me after I found Allen’s body. I suppose they were afraid to admit they were wrong in not listening to me when I voiced my concerns.

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