The Locker at School: Part 1
[ WARNINGS: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol and smoking. Scenes of suicide and narrator's friend goes through severe depression. Events of death and may be slightly triggering for depression and anxiety patients. Not suitable for minors under 13.]
I was studying in 9th grade when this happened to me. Till date I still haven't forgotten it, but I haven't said it to anyone either. It was the year 2006. We were shifting from the primary building to the main high school building. That meant we got new uniforms, classrooms and- lockers...
I had expected a glistening, clean as-good-as new locker just like how my classmates received. Unfortunately, mine was quite the contrary. Rather, it was always dusty and had that dullness of rusted metal no matter how much I tried getting rid of it.
Now, the series of strange events, which I had been hiding for so many years, began after the untimely death of my close friend, Owen's, father. Obviously, as a child should be affected by their parent's death, he became cold and distant and completely changed his attitude to life. He started failing in all his classes and lost interest in his life. Later on, he turned to terrible pleasures- drugs, smoking, alcohol.
I know what you are thinking; I should have stopped him, pulled him back up and given him the support he needed as a friend. But I was in no position to do so because I myself was no different from him. Now here comes the funny part. After a few months, Owen's condition started getting worse and I started receiving anonymous letters in my locker. No, it wasn't some creep trying to prank me by sending weird warnings with red ink. I would have known that beforehand. No, they were letters of genuine concern about my friend.
At first, I'd assumed that some family member of his was sending them to me. Even his siblings could have done so because the handwriting on each letter was very similar to Owen's himself. I had the thought that maybe he was writing to me himself but if he knew about his own condition, why didn't he try to work on himself? How can one write letters of concern about themselves and destroy oneself at the same time?
Nevertheless, as months passed by, he started growing worse- health wise and also mentally. The letters increased and got more desperate. This anonymous write kept pleading that I should help him, 'save' him. Gradually, he grew friendless because of his habits. I myself slowly started drifting away from him. There were times though, I felt I had to pay heed to the letters. I tried to help Owen with his studies, motivated him to quit his habits. There were many instances he even remembered how he was like before and tried to take his life seriously. But it seemed like his father's death was too much for him to take. He just couldn't move on.
But after this, I just stopped trying and cut ties with him. I had problems of my own and the midterms were nearby, so I needed to study more. Few days just went by, I was so busy with my exams, I didn't even get time to open my rusty locker. But those letters, they never stopped coming. I knew they were still getting delivered to me and I didn't know who was doing it or writing them.
(pls follow for part 2. and its proofread, all plots and lines are written by me.)
