Sorry if this is depressing and **** but if you've read any of my other poems recently then you know my friend Alfie killed himself a couple of weeks back. He hanged himself. He was 14. He took drugs but we didn't tell anyone, scared of breaking the fragile trust he had in us. I knew there was something wrong after I met him in the park that morning yet he never showec up to school. They'd had a call supposedly from his dad saying he would be absent. It wasn't from his dad, it was from Alfie. Alfie hung himself from an apartment block stairwell 2 hours later. He didn't send a text to say goodbye. He didn't have a note with him. I couldn't watch the CCTV footage but Lily, his girlfriend, did. I've slept at her house a lot since that day. Making sure she doesn't follow him. Her parents hardly notice her and she can walk around the house in short sleeves and not be questioned once about the fresh cuts or old scars. We avoid talking about it. We both think about it though. The call I get and 5:47 pm , while I'm walking home, with Lily sobbing down the phone telling about how it isn't fair and nothing is worth anything anymore. At this point I don't know what she's talking about so I asked but wish I hadn't. Alfie hanged himself. Alfie committed suicide. Alfie is dead. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry I guess you probably didn't read that but if you did thanks for sticking with me. I needed to write the whole story somewhere.