Lights flash red and blue, usually that’s not a good sign. Dad’s voice raised towards a simple comment being made, my name. The best thing to do would be to walk the other way, but when your step mom’s pacing and your dad’s yelling at an officer, obviously curiosity takes a better hold before common sense. Standing there frozen with the words that seemed to blurt from the officers mouth, dead, suicide, and friend. Usually when all those words clash in one sentence, it’s never anything joyful. Tears welled up in my eyes before I could even have put the puzzle together. Turning to hear my cries, dad looks at me with pure regret and pain, not for him, but for me. Some memories, you just can never forget. To make things a little more understandable, we’re going to backtrack to a few months ahead of the scene.
Getting ready for my first day of high school, fear striking every ounce of my being, yet the excitement to see my friends draining it out. When I saw my best friend walk through the doors after me, I couldn't help but feel relieved and full at the same time. Shawn Thomas, the only person I could confess my life about to. We hung out all summer, and always have since we were both 5 years old. Ever since then, calling him my best -friend seemed to make more sense. We both talked while grabbing our schedules, when a group of girls saw us and made their way over, but one thing. Shawn said he’d see me later and went in the other direction, I didn't think much of it at the time, so I said okay and looked back to the girls. When they approached we were all excited and happy to be reunited and ready for school again.

Believe it or not, I could have been considered “popular” in High school, or my grade, so to say. I had a lot of friends, and I got along with nearly everyone. Shawn, I noticed only had one other friend than me, and he was nerdy with glasses that always war star trek T-shirts and brown pants. Shawn sort of dressed that way, but I didn't care. The first few weeks of school went on like normal. I had every class with Shawn except one, and I shared them with my other friends too. I always sat in the front with the girls and Casey, the hottest guy in the class, you could say. And Shawn sat in the back corner, never anywhere up front. We only sat together in Art class, because there wasn’t anyone really in there, and we both shared that common passion. But as the weeks grew further into the year, Shawn became more distant and I grew closer to the girls. We talked occasionally but not as much as we used to. Art seemed like the only time I could actually talked to him. We talked about stupid things, like drama, clothes, and homework. He’d laugh at some of the things, but avoid others Especially when it came to the girls and Casey. I didn't think it was a big deal whenever he asked me not to say anything about them or to them with him.

I began seeing Shawn shift away, he missed days of school at a time, and he stopped coming over to hang out. I’d call his house every day with no answer except occasionally when his mom would answer saying he’s not home. So when a month later passed, he finally showed up. I smiled and walked over towards him when I saw he was already crowded by some people, the girls I always hung out with. His expression sad, tears running down his eyes. I felt something hit the pit of my stomach and I ran over. I heard names being called out to him. “Stupid, lame, loser, fat, freak, worthless.” I stopped behind them, his eyes meeting mine, pleading for help, for something, for his best-friend. But I didn't move, I didn't speak, I looked away. Frozen with guilt and unaware of what I could do or say. I didn't want to lose any of my friends or say the wrong thing. Pushing out of the crowd, Shawn ran to the office, I didn't follow. The girls came over laughing as if nothing happened, complaining and continuing to call him names, as if expecting me to join in. But nothing came out, instead I walked the other direction, hoping he’d be okay.
Days passed, weeks, passed, than in came to be Shawn’s birthday, March 10th. I had stopped seeing much of him let alone calling him. But I hoped he’d show up that day. He didn't. So after school I went to his house holding a box wrapped with star wars wrapping paper. I knocked and his mom answered, the look on her face told me the answer, he wasn't home. I left the gift with her and made my way home. As the day went on and the day drained from it’s light, night came faster than usual. I lay on my bed with the tv on, listening to music, a typical night for me. But when I saw the lights of red and blue that flickered through my window, and the loud sound of sirens echoed in my ears, I sat up and looked out the window. Slipping out into the living room, watching dad talk to this officer.
Now, going back to the beginning, as you all would have figured out, I lost my best friend that night, on his birthday. And how? When they saw me, I wanted to know so I asked, and the answer I got was cruel, like a stab to the chest. Shawn Thomas was found dead with a gunshot wound. I probably have never cried more than I have then, and it was the hardest thing to face. Dad was there to catch me, but it wasn’t enough support. I lost my best-friend because he was being bullied and I was oblivious to it. I watched him slowly grow distant and I did nothing. I watched my so called friends verbally abuse him and I did nothing. I felt like nothing. I stopped talking to the girls, until they came up to me and were harsh with my distance, and I finally snapped telling them what happened was because of them, all they did was laugh at his accident. I yelled and I told them if only I had said something he’d still be there. From there on end, I felt Shawn’s pain. I was bullied for a while before someone stood up for me, and now I regret never standing up for him. I lost a part of my heart, my sight, and I lost the greatest part of my life, my best-friend.