I see the post. I suddenly feel a wave of shame and guilt. I knew she was dead, but this… this is horrible. She was so close to home when it happened. She didn’t do anything wrong. I always ignored her, never listened to her. She was only trying to help. She didn’t deserve this. Why do people like Alexandra have to die while her wretched mother must live and corrupt those around them? I must go. I must she Nick and apologize for ignoring her. I must. 

****

On the way to his apartment, I think. Nick hasn’t texted me yet. Is he okay? He never EVER ignores me during something so big. “We need to talk” I text on a red light. I know he will ignore me, but if I’m not welcome there, he should have texted back. I pull up to the apartment complex. I jump up out and run up. Somethings not right. I find the spare key under the rock he keeps there. Turn it and sprint in. Oh god. I don’t know. Somethings not right.  “Nick!?” I cant find him. He must be here. He has to be. I race to his room. Oh god. “Nick… WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON?” He doesn’t answer. His back is to me. I circle him slowly, trying to see what he’s doing. He’s in a chair, facing away from me. I circle him. Oh god. Oh god. No. This is not real. His hand… it grips a bloody knife. His arm has dozens of angry slashes, barely clotted. His throat is what horrifies me. It has one slash, but a deep one. A very, very deep one. He’s passed out from blood loss. I shake out of my trance and start sobbing. I pull out my phone. “911, what’s your emergency?” “My friend, he tried to kill himself. Please I don’t know if he’ll be okay. Please. He lives on xx-xxx Street. Please.” I sob uncontrollably. The EMTs are are here in a matter of minutes. I watch silently as they pull him away. The sirens pull into a distant groan. He can’t die. He WON’T die. No. Please. No. I sit sobbing for minutes. Hours. When I have no more tears, I get a call from an unknown caller. “Who is this? I answer not even hiding my clear croaking mouth.  “It’s your friend’s mother, dimwit.” Oh god. “Are you calling to tell me he died?” I ask, scared. “What? No. Nick. He hasn’t answered any of my calls. Where is my son?” I think it over. “Meet me. Twenty minutes. xxx Park. Be there.” 

****

The park is empty. Except of course, for Emiline of course. “You want to know what happened to your son?” She nods, curious. “I went to his apartment. He wasn’t answering my texts, so I was worried. I found him. In his chair. With slash marks on his arm. A knife in his hand, and a single deep cut. Right on the base of his throat.” He face is shocked, but un comprehensive. “He tried to kill himself.” Her eyes betray a single tear. I give it to her, she didn’t wipe it away, but still. “Is he okay?” She asks me. I can’t answer, because if I do, I will cry. I can’t stand it anymore. I walk away, giving the horrible woman time to think.