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about david; the one that ruined everything

an autobiography of the worst days of my life

By Leila TamblynPublished 4 years ago 4 min read
2

When I was no older than thirteen years old, I joined the fanfiction website known as Quotev. In the beginning, everything was great - I really enjoyed my time, I made friends with whom I am still close to, and started my writing journey with fanfictions of my favorite shows.

Then, I met him.

He was charming at first - he would always respond to messages and he would make me laugh and want to talk to him more. His name was David.

That's where this all starts.

David came from a broken home. His father was a drug addict, his mother was abusive. His sister was trying to balance work and school in order to keep the family afloat, so she was basically absent from his life entirely. He was struggling mentally in a lot of different ways. But, we were close friends, so I took it upon myself to help him out - to make him happy.

David was depressed. And that led him to ways of self-soothing: he was a cutter and he also was a marijuana user.

There was one time, about two months into our friendship, when he came onto the chat completely out of his mind high. Blood would trigger him - but he was talking about blood more than anyone else I've ever talked to has. He was talking about drinking blood, licking blood off of my body - things that were making me very uncomfortable at the time. But, I just went with it because I was worried he would hurt himself if I didn't.

And then, as we come to the climax of this story, we must discuss August 12, 2014.

This was the day when we were talking about nothing really - and he goes silent for about five minutes. I can see that he's typing - but he's not sending anything. Finally, the words appear on the screen.

"I love you."

Keep in mind, I was 13 at the time - I knew I was in no position to date anyone, and I didn't like David in that way. Not only that, but I was 13 and he was 16 - an age difference that makes a significant impact on that decision. So, I did my version of letting him down gently - I told him I wasn't ready for a relationship, I told him that I wanted to stay friends - the kinds of things you hear in the movies.

And that's when the fight started.

"Why did you tell me all those nice things if you didn't love me!?"

"Who even are you anymore?"

"You're such a dumb bitch!"

"I can't live anymore without you loving me!"

And other various things that could be considered insults on my character or toxic behaviors. We fought for hours - all through the day and into the night. Him, becoming more and more depressed by the second and hurling insults and jibes at me. Me, scared that I've made the person who used to be my friend unstable and unsafe, trying to convince him that I liked him platonically, but I didn't love him.

At the end of the fight, he said:

"I'm in settings with a knife in my hand. See you in hell, bitch."

And that was the last time I ever heard from him. I was terrified that he'd committed suicide, so I called everyone that I knew that knew him and asked if he was ok - none of them knew.

The next day went by, and I heard nothing. Then the day after that: nothing. Then the third, fourth, fifth and sixth days went by, and still everything was quiet. I was scared out of my mind.

On the seventh day, I logged on to see I had a message from someone I didn't know. Her name was Stephanie. David had talked about her before - she was his sister.

"You're that bitch that made my brother kill himself."

I was in shock - how do I respond to this? I was already blaming myself, but to hear his sister blame me was different. Then, came the pictures.

She sent me pictures that have burned themselves into my corneas for all eternity. Pictures of his body, of him writing my name on the wall in his blood, of his suicide note, where he blamed me for not loving him and closing off his last connection with this world.

"Don't bother coming to his funeral. You're a monster. You should be dead instead of him."

I never recovered from that. At this point in my life, as I'm writing this, I am a suicide attempt survivor three times over. I deal with self harm, with anxiety and depression and post-traumatic stress disorder that stem from this incident, as well as psychosis that comes from my family's lineage.

I needed to share my story - not only so that I become less scared to talk about it, but because I need other young girls and boys to know - it's ok if you don't love someone back. It's not your responsibility to keep someone alive. Whatever happens was their choice - not yours. And, always call 911 if you think that one of your friends is a danger to themselves. You might not want to, but it's better to call in professionals that can help them. It's not embarrassing or weak to need help.

I love you all, and I hope you all are okay.

trauma
2

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