This is my last attempt at writing this post. I just need help getting closure. If anyone can help that would be amazing.
My brother killed himself a week ago, today I found his suicide note.
It has been a week since Sam died. Mom and dad haven’t been the same. Sam was there golden child, the kid that I couldn’t be. Don’t get me wrong though, I wasn’t jealous. I love being me.
Sam was so innocent. He couldn’t hurt a single thing on this world. He was 13. They called it a suicide and said that he was depressed. I’m not convinced that it was though. You see, Sam was a happy kid. He was your average kid. He played video games, played sports, had a lot of friends. There was nothing for Sam to be sad about.
He was fine up until December. Usually he loves December, but this year he was different. Around the 3rd of December he started acting weird. He wasn’t the same kid that I knew. He wasn’t the same kid that mom and dad knew. We all noticed the change. He went from being happy and always being very talkative to seeming sad and not talking at all.
He would always pick at his food and wouldn’t eat a lot at dinner. We asked what was wrong and he said “fine”. We knew he was lying. Fine is the worst word in the English language. It is so misused. When someone says they are fine, they aren’t. They say that to stop the conversation. They say that so they don’t have to talk about how they really feel.
Sam wasn’t fine. That much was very obvious. Mom said to leave him alone though, that maybe it was puberty. I didn’t think so though. I’m 16 now and, well, I didn’t act like that when I was 13. His mood change was so sudden. He went from being joyous and happy to being sad and well, depressed. I hate that word.
I’m not sure if Sam was depressed. I’m assuming he was, but I don’t know for sure. All I know is that I miss him. He was my best friend. I didn’t have a connection with other people like how I did with Sam. Sam truly was my best friend. Sure I had friends at school, but Sam and I had a special bond. A bond that only brothers could have.
My favorite memories with Sam is when we would go to the lake and build forts. We still did that even when we grew up. It was fun for us. We always had a special bond and that was our way of bonding even more. I know it probably sounds weird, but that’s how we were.
Sam never aggravated me. He was always there for me. He was stronger then I could of ever been, and he handled so much stuff that I would have crumbled instantly from. I miss him so much.
He died on Christmas Day. The week leading up to Christmas was weird.
Christmas was on a Wednesday this year.
Friday the 20th was the first weird day. Sam didn’t show up to school and instead stayed home. It was exams so mom was upset at him. He said he wasn’t feeling well.
That night there was a lot of arguing during dinner and he eventually stormed away from the dinner table. My mom was about to go after him but my dad stopped her. He said it was just part of puberty and that tantrums were normal.
When I was done eating I went to go talk to him. He tried to ignore me but I tickled him and made him talk.
Like I said, we had a great bond. “Fuck off” he said.
This was not normal. He’d never said that before to me, and he sounded serious when he said it. He sounded like he did want me to go away. I didn’t oblige though. I kept asking him things like “What is wrong?” Or “You’ve been acting weird, what’s up?” I knew that he didn’t mean fuck off so that’s why I was being so persistent. Or maybe he did.
Eventually he said that word again. “I’m fine. Can you go away? I want to draw in peace, and your fucking aggravating me.” I was almost in a state of shock. He’d never acted like that before. I obliged then.
“Ok fine. If you need to tal-“ he cut me off saying “Get the hell out.”
I searched up signs of depression that night. He met a lot of the things that were on there.
Mood swings - check. Loss of interest and pleasure in activities - check. Poor appetite - check. Agitation and aggression - check.
That was the problem then. He was depressed. I went to tell my mom but she called me silly. She said I was overreacting and that he would be back to normal soon.
Saturday the 21st was the first day of Christmas break. Instead of going sledding like how he did in years past, he stayed inside. I tried to drag him outside but he wouldn’t budge.
It was then that I noticed something. A cut on his arm.
“Hey, Sam.” I said quietly. “Yeah” he said in an aggravated tone. “What is that cut on your arm?” I asked. He pulled his sleeve over it and said “Oh. I uh, cut myself by accident while I was outside earlier.” “Are you sure?” I asked. “Yes. Why do you care?” He said in a aggravated tone. “If you are cutting let me know. I can help you if you need me to.” I said. I grabbed his arm. He hit me off of him. “I told you, I’m fine! Please leave me alone. Please.”
That’s the third time he said fine. I left his room in disbelief and sat in the living room in a state of mind of disbelief.
“He’s cutting” I thought to myself.
I couldn’t tell mom. She would say he’s fine and that he probably did cut himself outside.
Sunday the 22nd a terrible day. There was a blizzard and the we were locked in the house all day. I tried to go talk to him again.
“Hey, want to do something?” I asked. I noticed that he was writing or drawing in some notebook. He put closed it when he heard my voice.
“Um, sure.” I was shocked. He actually said yes.
“Video games?” I asked.
“Sure” he said. He put the notebook in a drawer and locked it.
Maybe he was fine, I thought. He actually said yes to go play video games. I let him beat me and he didn’t hold back from rubbing it in.
By dinner time, he was actually looking happy. We ate dinner and had a talk as a family for the first time in what felt like forever. He stopped acting so distant and began talking to us. He twisted his curly brown hair and actually ate a bit.
After dinner, we played more video games.
Around 11 he went to bed. I told him goodnight and said that I had fun. The conversation went something like:
“I’m gonna go to bed, it is getting late.” He said.
“Sure. I was getting tired myself. Thanks for playing today. I was getting worried about you.” I said.
“I’m fine he said. I’ve been drawing and stuff. Maybe I’ll be an artist.” He chuckled.
“Show me them sometime” I said. He nodded.
“Night.” “Night.”
Monday the 23rd was another day of being stuck inside. Today I decided I would find out what he was drawing and writing. I snuck into his room when he went out for breakfast. I saw his notebook was left on the desk. He started coming back. I grabbed the notebook and acted like I was looking for something. I hid the notebook in my sweatshirt.
“Hey, have you seen my wallet?” I asked. “I think I might of left it in here when I came in yesterday.”
“No, I haven’t.” He said.
“Oh ok, let me know if you see it.” I said while awkwardly walking out.
I ran back to my room and locked the door. His notebook looked normal. He had drawings in them. They were really good drawings.
He also wrote some poems. One was:
The nights are growing long, As I look for some place I long, For a way to feel better in my self, And in a way to get some help, I feel the things growing inside of me, The voices keep yelling at me.
It was a bad poem but it seemed odd. “What voices?” I thought. And the nights are growing long?
I thought he was getting better. It seems as if he had been faking. As if to make me feel better. Here’s another poem:
The devil roars at night as I look into the sky, I’m waiting for my wings so that I can fly, Soon I’ll be free of this torture, And soon I’ll be either with the devil in torture, Or with the angels keeping watch.
Another terrible poem. “Soon I’ll be free?” What was he getting at?
I ripped the two pages out and brought the book back to his room. That night I lay there asking myself what he had meant. “Maybe I should go ask?”
•Tuesday, the 24th - Christmas Eve.
This was the day that I messed up the most. I feel like if I had gone about it better, he would still be be here.
I heard him talking in his room early Christmas Eve. He said something along the lines of:
“The pain is getting too hard. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m not strong enough for this. If I were Gabe I would be able to, but it is me. I can’t handle this pain anymore.
The voices keep calling for me. They are saying that it is my time to join them. They are saying that I need to go and meet them. That soon I will have my wings. I am not sure what they mean by this, but I’m sure it means something.
I wish the people around me knew. I wish that I could talk to Gabe, but I can’t. He wouldn’t understand, or he would tell mom and dad. I think next weekend is when it will happen. That’s when I’ll fulfill my goal. My purpose in life. I wasn’t meant to live a full or good life, but to live a burdensome and tough life. This was Gods plan for me the whole time.
Soon the pain will be over.”
He closed the notebook when he finished writing and put it up. I walked in immediately.
“What will be over?” I asked him with a stern voice.
“How long were you liste-“ I cut him off.
“What do you mean the pain will be over? What can I not understand?” I asked.
“Oh Gabe. You just don’t get it. I’m not writing this so that it is to be taken literally. I’m writing a book.” He remarked.
“At 13? Try again. What the hell did you mean the pain will be over soon? I’m going to get mom and dad if you don’t answer now!” I screamed.
“My pain. It will be over.” He said. Then he walked out of the room.
I let him walk out. That was the biggest mistake of my entire life. I left it at that.
•Christmas Day, the 25th.
When I woke up, Sam wasn’t there to wake me up. I woke up by myself. Usually Sam woke me up on Christmas morning. He still believed so it was his thing to do.
I wondered why I woke up. It was 6:30 AM.
I heard a scream. It sounded like mother.
“No, no, no, no, no. Oh honey. Sam oh honey!” She screeched. “Call an ambulance!” She yelled to my dad.
I woke up and walked to Sams room. My dad was standing outside of it. “Don’t try going in, son.” He said with a deep sorrow in his voice.
“Wh- why not? Is it Sam?” I asked.
He nodded his head.
I knew instantly what had happened. I pushed through dad and saw the scene. I will never forget it. The way his body was limp and was laying there. The way the blood run from the veins of his arm. The cuts going up and down his arm. I fell back. I was speechless.
The carpet was covered in blood. His lifeless body was there, and it was a horrible site.
I’ll never forget the scene. There was a rope by the closet. It was tied like a noose. It was later determined as a back up plan in case he couldn’t go through with cutting his arm.
I was speechless. My mother was there by his body, holding him. She was wailing and screeching. I couldn’t move. The police officers and paramedics came in around 10 minutes later. They tried moving me but I didn’t budge. I was stuck there. Staring at the lifeless body of my best friend, my only friend, the one who had slit his own wrists.
The 26th was just as bad of a day. My parents set up a psychiatrist appointment and I would be going to see a therapist soon. “The traumatic scene” they called it.
Yesterday was his funeral. I’ll never forget it. He had joked before about him having to bury me. I never thought I would be burying him.
I’m over it now though.
I saw a note under his bed. It says:
“Dear Gabe,
If you’re seeing this, that is good. I know you had your concerns about me and I’m sorry that I couldn’t talk about things to you. It is easier for me to write or draw about them. Something happened.
When I was walking down by Old Ashberry Creek around the 3rd of December, I saw something. You and I both know that we never liked that place to begin with because it was odd.
There was this shack that I’d never seen before and well, I was intrigued by it. I walked over to it and inside there was this child. I’m not going to say who, but I think you can figure it out.
I grabbed the kid and started walking with him back home. I had left my phone at home, so I couldn’t call the police. I started walking towards home when I heard something behind us. I told the kid to stay put and I would go find what it was.
I went to go look for it, and then I heard the screams of a child right where I had left him. When I got back there was a horrible scene. I’m not going to describe it in this letter.
I wasn’t depressed. I was scared. I couldn’t live with the constant fear anymore. I’ve left my notebook under my bed. I said some more things there. I need you to spread this story.
Make sure you warn people not to go to Old Ashberry Creek. They might see what I did. It was so real it felt set up if you know what I mean.
Anyways, if you’re reading this letter you know what I did next. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you.
Love, Sam.”
Old Ashberry Creek. That place always seemed off to me. Wait, his notebook is under the bed.
I’m not going to read everything from it, but these are the things I see that you should hear about:
————- December 3rd, 2019:
I went to go help the kid. That’s all I wanted to do. Now it is following me. I can hear it in the walls and I can hear it outside. It sounds like it is getting louder every second. After it attacked me, it said if I mention it to anyone then he’d kill my family.
I say it because I couldn’t see what it was. It looked like a human, but I’m not sure. I can hear it coming.
————- December 7th, 2019:
Turns out it was a human. It was dad. He brought me to his lab outside. The entrance door was behind some bushes on the side of the house; impossible to see unless you saw it opened.
This isn’t an ordinary lab though. The walls were coated in rust and metal and the ceiling was an ugly yellow. He brought me to one room...
“The Childcare Room” is what he called it. It wasn’t a childcare room. I saw the face of that kid I tried saving by the creek, the faces of some of my classmates. I can’t get the image out of my head. Maybe I’m going insane.
I hear him coming again.
——— December 17th, 2019:
Now I hear the voices constantly. They are always there. I hear them right now. The voices of those children.
“Join us” they say. “It is better when the pain is gone” they say.
Maybe they are right.
——————— December 24th, 2019:
Tonight is the night that I’m going to do it. Gabe has been bugging me about how I feel and I always tell him fine but he knows that I’m not.
I need this pain to be over with.
I think I’m going to use that knife that mother just bought. It always glistens. Maybe it won’t with my blood on it.
The voices are starting to hurt my ears. I hear them constantly. I need to get out.
If someone is reading this, the child’s name was *******. He told me he lived at ****. Go give his parents some closure please.
And please ask dad why he had to do this.
Goodbye.
————
Goodbye. That was the last thing he ever wrote. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t think confronting dad would be smart, but maybe I should call the police.
Please tell me how I can fix this. Please help me.
I will read any comments. Any suggestions.
Just please help me get justice for Sam.
I will post updates if I can get any help from whoever is reading this.
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