Note: This is a suicide story. Don't worry, I don't go into too deep of details when it comes to the character's death. When I say that, I mean I don't describe the character's point of view as they commit suicide.


Willow is not answering my texts. . . Or my frantic phone calls. Something isn't right, she always keeps her cell phone glued to her left hand, its her lifeline to the outside world, to me. After all, I am her only friend. She used to have more until that freakin' rumor spread around her high school. If I was there, I would be kicking some major ass against the majority of the student population. But I'm not in high school anymore. I graduated almost a year ago.

My chest is pounding and my brain is buzzing with a dark dread that won't go away. I try to rationalize with myself in order to calm down, but it doesn't work. All of my theories are nothing but shit. At first I thought maybe Willow had slept in all day, pulled a 'screw the entire world, I'm staying in bed' today. But I know she is the most energetic person ever and hates being lazy. She says being lazy just makes her more depressed. Theory Number Two: her cell phone's charger is lost. Her phone is dead and can't answer my texts because the charger is lost. That one is lame, since Willow always keeps her phone charger constantly connected to a wall outlet. And I have no freakin' third theory.

In desperation to get ahold of Willow, I go onto Facebook and send her a Private Message. I wrote to her,

"Where the hell are you, Willow? I'm worried about you. You scared me last night. You're scaring me now. Call me. "

I even add in my name at the end of the message.

Last night, Willow had sent me seven text messages and three voicemails.

Number One: "Hey. . . "

Number Two: "What's up? . . . "

Number Three: "Having a bad day today."

Number Four: "I really need to talk to you. . . "

Number Five: "Please. . . Tyler. . . Text me. . . "

Number Six: "I'm serious, Tyler. I feel like I'm going to break inside. I just found out something really, really bad today. Please text me ASAP."

Number Seven: ":/"

The text messages started at 8:17 P.M. last night and the last text was sent out a few hours later at 2:03 A.M. At 2:33 A.M., Willow left a voicemail, her voice was cracking up as though she was trying desperately not to cry,

"Pick up the phone, Tyler. . . I need to talk to you."

The second voicemail was at 2: 42 A.M. This time Willow was sobbing as she sputtered,

"I think I'm going to do it, Tyler. I can't live like this anymore. I'm scared. . . "

2:58 A.M., Willow's last voicemail. All she said was,

"Eff you."

Author's Note:

More to come :)

-Norah Strike