I knew immediately that something was wrong. Incredibly wrong. My instincts were almost never wrong. Soon enough I was called to the Principal's room. A teacher shut the door behind me and another took my hand and asked me if I had cut myself. I was confused. I was was trying to figure out what they were talking about. That's when the Principal stood up and told me that Jake was found some time back in the Boys Washroom with a slit wrist. The intensity of the moment hit me then.
The first time we met was during the State Sports Meet. He was one year senior to me at school and therefore all the more interesting. We knew each other but had never spoken to each other before that day. His event was long jump and before going he asked me to hold his phone for him. And I did. For some unknown reason I thought I'd give a call to my phone from his. That's how I got his number; before we even formally met each other or started talking. After his event was done, he came over to get his phone back and that was when we first spoke. I immediately liked him and I knew we were going to be friends. After a while, he went to McD with his friends and since I was the only one among my friends who had his number (thanks to that missed call), I called him from my phone and all of us started screaming at him for not taking us along with them. And that's how we became friends.
Back at school, we started sitting close by in the canteen during lunch breaks and people started teasing the both of us. And we started talking, A Lot. We talked over the phone, mailed each other and texted each other. I started to kind of like him then. And he made these passing comments and did these noticeable things that made me think he liked me too. So that kind of reinforced the whole fact.
That was until everything took a turn for the worse. One of his friends came and told me that I ruined Jake's life. That came out of nowhere. I felt really bad and I didn't even know for what reason I did. He had his exams going on and was practically flunking in everything. His friend held me responsible, saying that I was leading him on. And I felt angry because it was the other way around. Jake was leading me on and I was the one upset by this fact! I didn't understand how it was affecting him. And I was really angry that day. He called me multiple times in the evening but I didn't pick up the phone.
It was 10'O Clock and I was dying to hear the bell ring for break; and it finally did a minute late. I was walking as usual in the hallways when I saw three of Jake's friends standing outside the Principal's room. I figured they were in trouble again (they always was) and was stopping to ask why Jake wasn't there with them when another friend of his stopped me. He told me Jake was called to the Principal's room during the the first period and he was still in there. His parents were in there too apparently.
I knew immediately that something was wrong. Incredibly wrong. My instincts were almost never wrong. Soon enough I was called to the Principal's room. A teacher shut the door behind me and another took my hand and asked if I had cut myself. I was confused. I was was wondering what they were talking about. That's when the Principal stood up and told me that Jake was found some time back in the Boys Washroom with a slit wrist. The intensity of the moment hit me then. "He slit his wrists? What?", I couldn't help myself but shout. "Yes. Please tell us what kind of relationship you both shared?", she spoke very softly to me; but not the kind of soft that was comforting. "We were friends.", I replied. "Friends. I see. Why do you think he slit his wrists?", she asked me. I couldn't think straight. I was just so worried about what had happened and what was happening. The teacher, as though not satisfied took my right hand now to check. I shook my hand free from her and said "I didn't cut my hand. And I have no idea why he did either!" And with that, I started crying. They asked me to leave.
Bits and pieces that were still not fully burnt looked pretty falling down with the ashes. I was on the roof with a lighter, a diary and a photograph. I was burning page by page of the diary in which I had written about him. And I let it fall down the apartment after it had turned to ashes. The photograph too, followed suit. After the whole diary had fallen down as dust, I stood there, emotionless.
He was suspended for two weeks and everyone was talking about it at school. Everyone blamed me; but that I could live with that. It was when even he decided to blame me that I gave up. I couldn't believe that he slit his wrists because of me. I asked him why and he didn't have a reply. But he blamed me. And his friends did too. I got so angry that I forwarded some of the mails he had sent me. It was revenge and not a nice thing but I was done with people blaming me for no reason. He led me on. He knew it and all his friends who read the mails knew it. And I realised he was just playing with me. I wasn't anyone important to him. And I was done with him.
That day I deleted his contact from my phone, deleted all the mails and went up to the roof and burned the diary I had written in and his photograph. I decided to move on. And that helped me.
I had moved on. I hardly even think about him anymore. Sometimes I do. It's in a loop. I think about that day, what happened before and what happened after. But what bothers me the most even now is, Why did he do it?