A/N before we get started: This is gonna be really sad. I hope you guys like it anyways!
TW: Suicide/Self Harm
Ashley's POV
I don't know exactly what it was about (Y/N). When she came to the meet and greet and gave me that letter, I was drawn to her. It was July and she was wearing long sleeves and long pants. I could see her sweating in the sun, so it made me believe she was hiding something under those sleeves. It pained me to think about it. I don't know if it was really meant to get into my hands, because she was panicking looking through her bag for something. She looked back at me for a moment, as if I had something she needed. I couldn't give it back to her, though. I don't know why I couldn't. I just didn't have it in me.
I read the letter after the show. It was a suicide note. She had drawn nooses and empty pill bottles all over it. Why she would bring that to a concert, I don't know. Either way, it was mine. It pained me to read it. I almost started to cry. I tried not to think about it. She was long gone, anyway. Where would I ever be able to find her? For the rest of the tour, though, I worried. I was more guilty than worried. I should have read it sooner and confronted her about it. I could see she was struggling, but we see that a lot on tour. People come from broken situations all the time. Self-harm and suicide was something that, unfortunately, we saw a lot of.
But I did find her. Well, I guess I did. In a way, I found her. I found her Facebook page. (Y/F/N). She looked happy in her profile picture. She was wearing long sleeves, I noticed. I began scrolling through. The first post told me where she was. (Y/N) died.
I stared at the link to the memorial page for a while. I went to the page. I found out that she killed herself because of the bullies in her school. I immediately became really nauseous. I couldn't see because my eyes were too watery. Lots of pictures of her were on the page. People were posting their wonderful stories about her and how great she was. One post, probably from her mother, explained how "she didn't know (Y/N) was depressed" and how she wished she could have helped. How do you not notice what happened to her? I saw her for five minutes and I could see it. I decided to message the woman.
Hi, my name is Ashley Purdy. I play bass in a band that (Y/N) really liked. I'm sorry to hear about her passing. Is there any way I could support you guys in this time?
It didn't take long for her to respond.
Hello, Ashley. (Y/N) is buried at (insert random cemetery name here). She always talked about how much she liked you guys. I think she would like it if you went to her grave. You are more than welcome to go see her.
The cemetery was about 3 hours away from my house. I decided I needed to go. I invited the rest of the guys, and they all agreed to meet me there. They were closer than I was, so I left as soon as they all confirmed. I kept the car quiet, almost like a really long moment of silence to remember her. The guys and I parked at the front of the cemetery, and we set out to find her. It was a small cemetery, so it didn't take long. She died less than 3 days after the concert. That sent chills up all of our spines. CC started to cry when he read the date. We were all shaken up about the death of a girl we barely knew.
"We saw that she was struggling," Jake said quietly. "And we didn't do anything."
I saw Jinxx shudder at Jake's words.
"I got her suicide note," I said quietly. "I didn't read it until she was long gone." Everyone turned to look at me. I looked down at the ground, ashamed. I should have read it sooner. I felt a tear escape my eye. "Now, (Y/N) is gone. And I can't help but think it's my fault."
"It's not, Ash," Andy assured me. "It was already too late."
"Bud, it's okay. She's...not in pain anymore," CC said softly. I looked down at the stone and sighed. They were right.
"Let's go have a drink. In honor of (Y/N)," Jinxx suggested. I wasn't looking to get drunk over the matter, so I decided to just have one. We all had one. Just one.
"For (Y/N)," we all said, raising our glasses.
