The next day Sebastian
didn’t come to school.
I cancelled my
appointments, and found his home address in the school directory.
My gut was telling me
that he shouldn’t be left alone.
His house was twenty
minutes from the school.
It was a proper,
white-sided ranch with a manicured lawn.
Sebastian’s car was the
only one in the driveway.
I knocked on the front
door.
It creaked open with the
gentle tap of my knuckle.
I stepped inside, calling
out his name.
There was no response.
I stepped deeper into the
house.
I could hear running
water.
I rushed towards the
sound.
In the upstairs bathroom
Sebastian sat shirtless on the floor.
His hands were submerged
in the bathtub, the water turning red.
He was still conscious, but
just barely.
I rushed to him, pulling
his hands out of the water.
His wrists looked like
hamburger meat.
No clean slashes, but
hack marks.
I applied pressure with
two towels and called 911.
He looked at me, his eyes
pleading with me to let him die.
I couldn’t.
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