Prologue

Journal Entry

March 5, 2025 – 22:35 PM

I'm sitting here in the dark, surrounded by the silence of my room, and all I can think about is that night. The night everything changed. The night my world came crashing down.

I remember walking through the door, exhausted from school, but still feeling a spark of excitement. "I'm home!" I shouted, dropping my bag by the entrance. But the living room was empty. Too quiet. I thought maybe Dad was resting in his room, so I tiptoed upstairs, hoping to surprise him.

And then I saw him.

I don't know how to describe what happened next. Time seemed to slow down, and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. I fell to the floor, my hand covering my mouth to stifle the scream that was building in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could do was stare at him, hanging from the ceiling, his body swaying gently like a puppet on a string.

I called the police, but my hands were shaking so hard I could barely dial the numbers. I remember crying so hard that my vision blurred. The ambulance came, but deep down, I already knew it was too late.

That night, I lost my dad. I lost my sense of security. I lost my innocence. And I gained a weight of guilt that I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

I keep thinking about what I could have done differently. Was he struggling silently, hiding his pain behind a mask of normalcy? Was he trying to tell me something, and I was too blind, too caught up in my own world to see? The questions haunt me, taunting me with the possibility that I might have saved him if only I had been more aware, more attentive.

I replay our conversations in my head, searching for signs I might have missed. I remember the way he'd smile, the way he'd laugh, but I don't recall seeing the pain behind his eyes. Or maybe I did, and I just chose to ignore it.

I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could hug him more, listen more, ask if he's okay. But wishes are just that – wishes. And reality is harsh.

Tonight, as I sit here in the darkness, I'm overwhelmed by the realization that I'll never get to tell him how much I love him, how much I need him. The pain is suffocating, and I'm left with the echoes of what could have been, what should have been.

I look around my room, and everything reminds me of him. The photo on my desk, the way he'd tease me about my messy room. It's all still here, but he's not. And that realization hits me like a ton of bricks every time.

I don't know how to move forward from here. I don't know how to heal from this wound. But for now, I'll just sit here, surrounded by the shadows of my past, and let the tears fall. Maybe someday, I'll find a way to let go of the guilt, to forgive myself for not seeing the signs. But until then, I'll hold on to the memories, and the pain.

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