It was a sunny day when Louise came to me with what I thought was the best news ever. She told me that her parents had agreed to let Max and me live with them, so we wouldn't be separated in the foster system. I couldn't contain my excitement as I rushed home to tell Max about it.
But when I entered his room, my heart shattered into a million pieces. There he was, hanging from the ceiling fan, lifeless and cold. The suicide note clenched tightly in his hand, a painful reminder of his fear of being taken away from me.
I can still hear Louise's voice echoing in my head, trying to console me and make sense of this tragedy. But how do you make sense of losing your only family member because they were too scared to face the unknown?
The days that followed have been filled with sorrow and despair. Every corner of our home reminds me of Max - his laughter echoing through the hallways, his smile lighting up every room he entered.
I find myself lost in memories of our childhood together - playing hide-and-seek in the backyard or sharing secrets under the starlit sky. How could all those moments lead up to this unbearable pain?
I try to keep myself busy during the day - helping out around Louise's house or taking long walks by myself in an attempt to numb the ache inside my chest.
But no matter how hard I try, there is no escaping this suffocating darkness that has consumed my soul since that fateful day.
I miss him more than words can express - his presence like a ghost haunting every inch of space around me. And now, with each passing moment without him by my side feels like another step closer towards oblivion.
Sometimes I catch myself staring blankly at nothing for hours on end until reality comes crashing back down on top of me like a tonne bricks – reminding once again just how cruel fate can be…
Is it wrong for wanting peace after enduring such overwhelming grief? Would joining him ease these endless waves tormenting heart & mind?
These questions linger within but never finding answers… Just silence...