A Dear Friend
Adam was my best friend. We were inseparable. But as we got older, Adam started distancing himself from me. I didn't notice at first, but after a while, I realized I hadn't seen him in a while. I called his house, only to reach voicemail. I started to get worried. I've always been a bit paranoid, and I thought maybe something had happened to him, so I headed down to his house. Adam and I had a mutual agreement that "my house is your house," so I just walked in. Immediately, I noticed something was wrong. Adam's usually spotless house had spot on the rug, chairs not pushed in, and uncleaned dishes. That may not seem like much, but Adam was a neat freak with moderate OCD, and never left anything unkempt. Confused, I headed up the stairs towards his room. The higher I got, the stranger things became. Blood stains on the walls. Blurry pictures littering the stairwell. I swallowed my fear, and turned the doorknob of his room. The door wouldn't open. It wasn't locked, something was holding it shut. I eventually forced the door open, only to discover Adam huddling in a corner, his fist clenched around a Colt 45. Perfect for protecting, or killing yourself. His head was pressed against his knees as he sat there, rocking back and forth. "A- Adam?" I mustered, looking at my friend. He slowly lifted his head, pale and drenched with sweat, looking at me as if nothing in the world was more terrifying. "Adam... It's me, it's me, Tyler." He didn't respond, he just kept staring. Staring at me. No, staring past me. I turned around slowly, heart pounding in anticipation of the source of my friends anguish. On the wall behind me was a photograph. A blurry scene of a dark figure. I thought back to the pictures on the stairwell. They all depicted the same blurry figure. Adam put his head back between his knees, shuddering. I began to look around the room, looking for anything to explain this. After a few minutes, I found a box. I opened it to find a block of styrofoam, with a indentation the shape of a gun. There was a note attached. "To Adam, from your dear friend Death."
So Adam was being threatened? Blackmailed into suicide? Warned? A million possibilities swam in my head. I pulled out a chair and sat down. Suddenly, Adam stood up. "Adam!" I said, before he lifted the pistol to his chin. I leapt up and tackled him just as his finger tightened on the trigger. The bullet flew past, shattering a window. "Please," Adam whimpered. "Let me... Let me save her." "Save who?" I demanded. "Her. I must save her." With a strength I had never known him to possess, he tore me off him, cocked the pistol, and fired three rounds into the picture on the wall, before collapsing onto the floor, weeping. I grabbed the photo off the wall, and drove to a photo developer. They were able to enhance the picture, and I could almost make out a face. I quickly brought all the photos over. With the data from the photos, they could reconstruct a face from the figure. Mine. I ran back to Adam's place to demand an explanation, only to find him in a pool of blood. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. They told me I had severe schizophrenia. Adam wasn't real. The photo shop owner called 911 after I had him search for meaning in a blank piece of paper. I couldn't believe it. I ran back to Adam's place, but... A woman lived there. A woman with kids. I burst in, running up the stairs to find Adam's room. It wasn't there. I woke up in the same hospital bed after I was arrested for breaking into the woman's house. Just as I was about to believe their story, I saw Adam's body, nailed to the wall, with something carved into his chest. I stood up, and walked closer to read it. It read, " Dear Tyler. A little gift from your dear friend Death."
Credited to JustTheUsualTF
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