Be That One Person

True story..

My mom told me stories about my father. She said he was a good man before he started to abuse drugs and drink a lot. Apparently, he was kind at one point. I don't care. I find that hard to believe when when a man threatens to beat his girlfriend in a bathtub while she's eight months pregnant. It was me she was pregnant with.

I don't want to tell the tale about how my mom drove herself, our dog, my older brother, and myself from the ghettos in southern California out here to Pennsylvania. Sure, there's racism here, but it's not the worst place in the world. At least I know I earned the respect I have today.

I don't want to tell say how many boyfriends mom had, how many times Mike tried to kill us, what it feels like to have your mother abandon you, to have her drunk all the time. I'm not going to tell you why I used to cut myself, what it's like to let the love of your life go, or how many people altogether left me. I won't say why my infant sister was held hostage, what it's like to have to leave all your friends, why I was depressed since I was nine, or why I learned to shoot at age four.

I just want you to know that that these are just some of my experiences that I've been through prior to Brandon's suicide.

He was one of my absolute favorite people. His physical characteristics looked average and like those that most other people in the area. Brandon had the chance to be normal, but he chose to be different by being gothic. Me, on the other hand, I'm half Mexican. Guess what? The Mexican is all that anyone sees in this crowd of European descent. My brother and sister are Caucasian, so is my mom, which means I'm almost completely alone.

Anyway, it was because of Brandon that I started playing with makeup to make myself look different. He showed me how to embrace being unique.

One morning, I was walking to school listening for Gab and looking for Brandon's black and gray striped hoodie. I heard Gab's loud mouth but I didn't see Brandon. I asked Hunter where he was and she said she didn't know and that she was worried because she texted him earlier but had no reply. She said he always responded.

I told her not to worry, he was probably sick or accidentally slept in.

The start of the day was awesome! The teachers were letting us do anything we wanted so we all talked as loud and did whatever on the way to second period. Then, Brittney came over to Chey and me.

"Hey, did you guys hear?" She giggled.

We said no and she continued.

"I heard that Brandon Bitner's dead."

The three of us laughed because we thought that just wasn't possible. It was a truly ridiculous idea to us.

Second period, I was turned around in my seat talking to Chey when the speaker in our room came on. It was the middle school guidance councellor. Something should have told me something was wrong there because this wasn't the middle school. But I thought everything was fine and ignored the numb, steady voice until that one heartless line.

"Brandon Bitner is dead."

Chey and I were staring into each other's eyes and our tears immediately fell. McGuirk, the English teacher, said the library was open for mourning. We were so stunned that attired we just sat there. Then she started talking and we got up. She told us that if there was anything we wanted to say to the class we- Chey cut her off politely and and said no and we walked off. So many kids were sobbing while coming out of the mods to go to the library.

Once there, I hugged a guy everyone hated, except for Brandon, because we all knew we needed each other then more than ever. I wore rainbow eyeshadow that day. Bad decision. I sat next to Cassidy leaning against a bookshelf and threw my phone.

After we cried and hugged for a few hours, we talked with Jess about her birthday party that had been planned that night for a while. We agreed we should all go to help support each other. And that's what we did.

I was well complimented for being so strong. But what most people don't know is later that night I seriously wanted to kill myself. My mom, bro, and sis were all living at mom's boyfriend's house and left me with my grandmother. However, my grandmother was at work that night until 3:00 a.m. I was kneeling in the pitch black on my knees, clutching my phone so I wouldn't miss a text... If I got one... I was begging and crying out for a friend to ask me if I was okay. I just wanted one person to care about me enough so I didn't have to be so strong for a little bit.

Then the biggest man-w***e/douchebag I knew texted me. He only liked to text me to talk dirty to me and try to get in my pants. He didn't know Brandon and didnt like him. In fact, he was probably one of the people who bullied him. He wouldn't even acknowledge my existence in public. He was a stereotypical jock, minus the good looks. Can you take a guess and what he said?

He asked me if I was okay.

He talked me through the night and made sure I didn't commit my own suicide. He was the only one who texted me that night. He genuinely cared that I made it to the next morning. He was the one person that saved my life. His name was Adam.

No matter who you are, you can save a life just by being there for someone.

Be that one person that makes an entire difference with one good-hearted decision.