I came home from a day camp I was being sent to, to find my dad dead in my bedroom. And it was all obvious it was suicide since he was hanging from a rope.
My life had completely changed. I couldn’t stop crying I felt like I had no one. My dad was my hero. And there he was dead in my room so it had to be my fault.
I let my life go. I gave up on everything. P=pen pal, kept writing me, but I rarely had the courage to write him back was because I was having thoughts of suicide. Which apparently was no shock since it ran through my father’s side of the family. But he was the one who kept saving me from myself.
Things got worse when in the beginning of that year; P reveals he has started getting feelings for me, that he was in love with me, which to him was a bad thing. I refused to write to him tell he told me who he was. In fact I couldn’t tell if it was the truth or a joke, but soon we both learnt to let it go, and forget he ever told me. But less than a month later we write me my final letter.