Jerome's P.O.V.
"Mitch? Where are you?" I was pacing around the house with my brow furrowed.
Mitch was nowhere to be found and both his phone and wallet were missing from his desk, but his car was still parked in the driveway with his keys on the kitchen bench. His jacket was also gone from behind the front door and his sneakers gone from the basket so I assumed he went for a walk.
But something was off. He never went anywhere without telling me or leaving me a note if I was busy, but there was nothing in the usual places. Normally he'd pin something to my door or slip it underneath it, somewhere he'd know that I would see it.
I frowned and quickly slipped my shoes on my feet, ready to go out and look for him.
My gut was telling me that something was very wrong and I was going to go out and find him.
He had been distant in the past few days, only talking to me during recordings or if I had asked him a question, but other than that he seemed to be in his own little world. I had seen him spacing out a lot, staring at the wall and not responding, even when I called his name or waved my hand in front of his face.
I grabbed my phone off the kitchen bench and pulled my hood up, bracing myself for the cold winter weather outside.
I shivered as the cold air hit my face and dug my hands into my pockets, lowering my face so it wasn't hit straight on by the icy winds. It was almost of the verge of raining, which I silently cursed in my head, wanting it to hold off until I found Mitch.
The weather was unusual for Florida, normally it was very hot and lowest temperature was around 65 degrees which was no where near the cold snap that was coming through now. It was nearing 50 degrees, although it felt much colder.
I was making a beeline for the park, which was where Mitch hung out when he wasn't on a walk, normally sometime during the early morning hours around 3am, when he was feeling down. I had followed him out a few times, seeing how down he got.
At the park, barely a 2 minute walk away from the house, I looked around for a couple of minutes before confirming to myself that he wasn't there. More often than not, if he wasn't on the swings then he wasn't there at all, but I knew something was wrong so I wanted to check every other place he could possibly be.
I was a little unsure where to go after that. Unless he was wandering around the neighbourhood there wasn't really any other places he could be, and I was getting more and more concerned.
He wasn't answering his phone and I knew he had it with him, so I was feeling the panic creeping up on me. I was thinking that the worst had happened, he had been hit by a car, he had been kidnapped or something even worse.
My mind was ticking, where could he be? Where would he go without telling me?
"Shit." I started to run, there was only one other place he could be now.
Mitch's P.O.V.
I was floating and I finally felt peaceful.
I didn't notice the lack of air in my lungs causing me to choke, I didn't notice the squeezing in my chest as I slowly sank into the dark abyss, I didn't notice the light fading around me.
All I knew was that I was finally at peace. I didn't have to fight anymore, I didn't have to keep the demons of my mind at bay, I didn't have to keep telling myself that what they said wasn't real.
It was real. I was worthless, I was a failure. I didn't deserve to live.
The coldness of the water around me didn't bother me, I could hardly feel anything, let alone the cold. I didn't know where my arms or legs were, or where I was.
All I knew was that I was floating, and that everything was peaceful.
Jerome's P.O.V.
The lake was deep, 20 feet deep in some parts and as soon as I saw Mitch's jacket on the shore I knew I was too late. His phone lay strewn to the side, the notifications on screen all of my texts and missed calls.
"No.... No Mitch please..." I knew he was gone.
I crouched down by his jacket and just held it in my arms, breathing in his smell in last time. As I placed it down a piece of paper fell out of its pocket and I picked it up, unfolding it carefully.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't say, I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up. I screwed up and there was no way I could fix it anymore, even after years of trying.
This might have been the cowardly way out, but I can't keep forcing myself through everyday by telling myself that tomorrow will be a better day. Tomorrow will never be a better day, not anymore.
I'm sorry Jerome, but I can't live like this anymore. I hope you understand. I'm sorry, but this is my fault.
"It's not your fault Mitch... And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see. I'm sorry that I was too late."