Goodbye

“Don’t ever forget that I love you. Goodbye, Derek.” 

Those were the last words I ever heard from my dear Caroline. She was only sixteen. I never thought I’d have to say goodbye; at least not like that.  I could’ve stopped it. I know I could’ve.  And that’s why I hate myself every single day.

“Derek? Derek? Mr. Adler?”  Mrs. Riley’s voice cut through my thoughts as I lifted my head off my desk.  Even being in class felt like a chore these days.

“Please, Mr. Adler. Let’s try to get some sleep at home, not in my classroom. Thank you.”

“Yeah... I’m sorry.” And I meant it. I really did try to sleep, if only my head wasn’t full of Caroline.  The hugs. The kisses. The warning signs I ignored. Now, all I do is wish I had paid attention to them.

Mrs. Riley kept teaching—something about statistics. I didn’t care. I saw my friends looking over at me, eyes full of worry. They motioned to ask if I was okay. I wanted to say, No. Not even close. Instead, I just gave a small thumbs-up.

My hair clung to my forehead with sweat. I pushed it away, picked up my pencil, and tried to follow along.  The last thing I needed right now was to fail math.

“Hey! You coming to the field after school?”  Cody—my best friend—walked up to me. “You need to get your head back in the game. Coach is getting pissed about you skipping practice all the time.” I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I touched a football. Everything felt distant now.

“Hey... I’m not really sure. I’ve got a lot of homework.” I trusted Cody more than anyone, but I didn’t tell him the real reason.  He’d probably say something like, You have to move on. But I can’t.  No matter how hard I try, I just can’t.

When I got home, I sat at my desk to do homework… and ended up staring at the wall. Alone with my thoughts again. Today’s thoughts were all about the signs I missed.  The tears. The hidden scars. The way the spark slowly faded from her beautiful blue eyes.  The less she smiled, the more I convinced myself she was just tired. Just stressed.  But she wasn’t.  She was breaking.  And I didn’t see it.

I remembered one night, sitting on her bed, when I noticed the cuts on her arms and thighs.  I asked her about them.  She gave me a small smile and whispered,  “Oh. Nothing. Don’t worry about it, my love.” And I believed her. God, why did I believe her? If I had a time machine, I’d go back and hold her for hours. Tell her over and over how much I love her.  But this is reality. And she’s gone.

The last day I saw her—March 14th—was perfect.  We went to the beach. We laughed. We danced in the waves.  We got dinner through a drive-thru and sang along to music. But as she got out of my car that night, she looked at me and said,  “I love you, Derek. I really do. Don’t forget about me, okay? See you soon.” She hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe.  I should’ve held on tighter.  I should’ve followed her inside.  I should’ve stopped her from locking her door, only to never come back out.  But I didn’t. And now she’s gone.

I must’ve fallen asleep on my homework.  I sat up. 12:09 a.m.  Same hoodie. Same jeans. Same emptiness. I sighed, finished the worksheet, changed clothes, and cried myself to sleep.

6:30 a.m. My alarm blared. My mom’s voice came from downstairs.  “Derek! Breakfast is ready! Pancakes!” Of course.  Caroline’s favorite.

“Good morning, sweetie! How’d you sleep?”  She smiled, big and fake.  Trying to cheer me up.  I forced a smile and said, “Good.” It was a lie.

School wasn’t much better.  Every hallway reminded me of her. The lockers where we first kissed. The table in the cafeteria where she laughed. The way her golden hair would fly around when she turned to look at me. She was my light.  And now I live in the dark.

Homeroom. Head down.  I wasn’t sleeping this time. I was thinking.  Thinking about how badly I needed her back. She was my everything.  Without her, I was empty.

Two weeks.  That’s how long it’s been. Everyone keeps saying I need to "get it together." School. Sports. Grades. And I know they’re right. So I promised  I’d try. I asked Coach if I could come back to practice.  Told him I’d do my best.  I even asked my teachers for extra credit. One small step.  Then another. But even as I tried to move forward, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.  Her photos. Her old sweatshirts.  Her hair tie I still wore on my wrist. I didn’t want anyone else.  I couldn’t imagine loving someone who wasn’t her.

Friday night.  First game since I rejoined the team.  I wasn’t playing—just sitting on the bench. The chill of the night reminded me of her voice cheering my name from the stands.

Then suddenly, I was snapped out of my thoughts—  “Derek! You’re in!” Cody had snapped his ankle. I stepped onto the field.  Lined up. Snapped the ball into the air. Started running as fast as I could, as though running away from my sadness. Pain ripped through me as I was tackled hard.  I hit the ground.  Everything went black.

I woke up in my bed.  Room dark. Head pounding.  The first thing I saw was a picture of her kissing me on the cheek.  I couldn’t do this anymore. I tried to be strong.  Tried to move on. But I couldn’t. I opened my drawer.  Pulled out the box.  The one I hadn’t touched in weeks. Inside was  the blade I promised I wouldn’t use anymore. I stared at it. Hands shaking. I started with one cut. Then two. I ended with six.  Blood running down my arms. Tears streaming on my face. My reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable. I felt like I had no control in the world. I felt worthless. 

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” I whispered as I dropped to my knees, but she can’t hear me. But something shifted in me. Would she want this?  Would she want me to fade the way she did? No. I called Cody.  He came over. No questions. Just rushed right over.  I told him everything.  He didn’t tell me to "get over it."  He just said, “I’ve got you.”

The next day, I told my mom. We called the therapist. I started healing. It wasn’t fast.  It wasn’t easy. I would still take out the forbidden blade on some horrible nights, but nothing too major.  But I was trying. I was trying for what I promised after Caroline’s death.  Some days were awful. Others were just okay. But slowly... I started to live again. And I stopped needing to create scars on my skin. 

Three months passed. I’ll never be “over” her. And I’m okay with that. I still wear her hair tie.  Still look at all of our photos.  Still talk to her when I feel alone.

One day, Caroline’s  mom gave me her old phone. Said I could go through it, if I was ready. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Maybe a sign. Maybe nothing at all. I scrolled through her photos. Most were blurry or random. Sunsets, our sneakers side by side, her cat, a picture of me mid-laugh. Then I found a video. Just a few seconds long. The most recent in her album.

She was sitting on her bed, looking straight into the camera. No filters, no makeup. Just her, with tears in her eyes. I just knew it was from the same night she committed. She smiled softly and said, “If you’re seeing this… I hope you’re okay. I hope you kept going. You’re stronger than you think.” That was it. No name, no explanation. But I knew it was for me. And I’m still here. Because of her.  For her.

 And now, every step I take—I take for her.

 For the love that still lingers in that message.

 For the goodbye that became my reason to keep living.