Twenty-one-year-old student commits suicide, the headlines read. My parents and I watched in horror as the reporter on the news spoke. It was the fourth suicide I had heard of this month, four of whom were of the same age, went to the same secondary school, and used to be my best friends. I didn’t understand why they did what they did and it scared me.
I tried keeping my hand still; I didn’t want my parents to notice how frightened I was. All they knew was that we had gone to the same secondary school, they did not know how close we were or that we knew each other, and I wanted to keep it that way, there was no need to make them worry. Their deaths seemed weird to me, apart from the fact that it had happened within a month, there was no evident reason for them to want to die, but then you can never know what’s going through someone else’s head.
According to the police, there was nothing to investigate, they had all committed suicide in public, leaving one question on everybody’s mind, why? Even with the assurance that it was suicide and the only connection between them was that they attended the same secondary school, I still felt there was more to the story, and that I was soon going to be a part of it.
To be continued…