December 2, 2017 by Patrick Starks
High School was hell for me, more so life as I viewed it. My mind was fragile, just as most people’s minds are, it was human I would trick myself into believing. In my life, sadness would always swarm around my head like fruit flies, blocking all confidence that I ever had to exist, and I really, I honestly, just wanted just that—to be free from it all. Me and Linda always felt life to be just a big popularity competition, a competition for the insecure we laughed. I obviously wasn’t on the top chart as you can tell by my tone of confidence, not even the top million, but I knew Linda would be at least somewhere in the rankings—to me Linda was better than any Beyonce, or Katy Perry, she was life. At night when me and Linda gazed at the stars, she and I would always talk about someday leaving the planet and traveling to another, naming our two to three children—Pluto, Venus, or Mercury in which we both believed to be unisex. Linda and I were truly soulmates, together to the end. Out of all the people I had grown to know in my life, all I had grown to love, I never knew that it would be Linda to take her own life.
Thinking of what happened still hurts today. It feels like it was just yesterday when our teacher Mrs. Herchold walked into the classroom with the bad news. On that day, I thought Linda might have been sick or just simply tired of all the assignments we would get every day. Usually she would text me, knowing that I would skip school just to be with her. Linda was one of Mrs. Hercholds favorite students, a teacher’s pet some in the class called her, and I could tell within that very moment Mrs. Herchold wanted to cry. Although, Mrs. Herchold wouldn’t be alone, we all wanted to cry, I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t believe what happened—Linda would have come talked to me.
“No… No! Stop lying! What are you talking about, I just talked to Linda yesterday.” I yelled. Mrs. Herchold said very little after that, she would do her best to try and calm me, but I wasn’t buying any of it.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sor-ry Chase…” Studdard Mrs. Herchold. She was pale, she looked as if she had just seen a ghost.
“W-what are you sorry about… Everything is fine, I’ll go see her after class. She’ll be back tomorrow.” I was still in denial, and all Mrs. Hechold could do was just look down at the floor as her tears collapsed between the little cracks that had. The bell rang, plowed through every one and through the door in hopes that I would hold Linda again.
They say while you’re a kid to enjoy life while your young, but as I sat down in the depression that was growing, I doubted life could get any worst as an adult than what it already had gotten. That year bullying became the biggest, yet worst trend the world would see. It was if there was now some sort of approval for it now. Almost anyone in high school experienced it; no matter how popular you were, no matter how tall, beautiful, or handsome you or others felt to be, there would be a bully for you as well. Bullying was now like having a secret Santa—everyone had one, you just never knew who it was. Bullying had gotten a huge reputation for the school of Stadumium High. Linda was never really bothered, although, I ponder on the thought now—if she ever was, and if so, why didn’t she tell me. I couldn’t get it out of my head, it was just like the fruit flies drifting away in my head from before. There were too many loose end, I needed to solve Linda’s death.
“Bro… as a… I know your hurt, its not easy for any of us, you need to let this go. My mom can’t even eat, my dad can’t even go up the stairs anymore, and me… I-I honestly don’t know, but people are starting to talk. Just fucking cut out already!” Brandon cried.
“I… I can’t man! I loved her! How could you believe she would do something like that to herself, you knew her just as much as I did, if not more. She was your fucking sister!”
“Yeah! Yeah she was! You don’t think I fucking know that! You don’t think it hurts me to go to my room every single night, the same room that sits across a now empty room!”
“Go to hell man! Go fuck yourself! Asshole!”
Brandon said his last words and walked away. I felt like an ass. I was surprised he didn’t beat the shit out of me right then and there. He was the star quarterback of our school, so it was possible for him to do so with little effort. Brandon and I didn’t talk much after that conversation—not only would I lose Linda that year, but a best friend Brandon as well. Out of it all, even though I had lost so much, I was still determined to know more about what happened to Linda. I decided to head to the crime scene, where it all happened.
I knocked on a decorative door, the fast pace of footsteps loudly announced themselves as they approached it, but not in excitement, but what I knew was concern.
“Oh, Chase… I wasn’t expecting you to come by… Linda is in the… I mean Sheriff said…”
“O-O-Okay honey come back inside, before you catch a cold.” Mr. Larson intercepted,, he knew that aka momma bear Linda would say, was still hurting as any mother would.
Mrs. Larson was still in shock. I couldn’t blame her, it still only been a few weeks since Linda’s death. I didn’t bother asking any questions that would upset them even more than what they already were. Although, I needed to ask to see her room, I just needed to know. So, I asked Mr. Larson for permission to do so, and I’m sure you know what he said after that. There I stood, outside Linda’s home along with a door slammed in my face, only to stair up at the very window I used to climb through. And oh, believe me, I thought about doing it, but it be wrong, that I know. For the first time in weeks, tears expelled from my eyes.
I took a bus back home, holding in the same tears that Mrs. Herchold had once, thinking of how much Linda meant to me, and what my future looked like without her. Once I got of the bus, I walked past The Center at Northpoint—a place that also brought clear vision of Linda back to mind. Even though it was a late night to be walking home, my house wasn’t very far. It was a neighborhood that consisted mostly of the elderly, so crime wasn’t all that common in the area.
Before I hit the corner of the street I lived, bright lights approached. I picked up my pace, and the lights did the same…
Little did I know, that night I wouldn’t be the only one with a fragile mind—For, Resistant, Attitudes, Gets, Intentions, Lifted, Everywhere.
The mystery, the riddle begins.