“It was most likely suicide, it is common for people like him,” the police officer says to me as the police leave my friend’s house. It irks me how the police officer disrespects my best friend by calling her a him. I would have gotten mad at the officer, but in the eyes of society Avery was a boy. I was the only person she told that she was transgender. We were best friends, so we shared every secret. When the police officer told me she died from suicide I had trouble believing it because she would have told me or at least left something behind. All that was left was the gun in her hand and a red skittle. I find it ironic that there was a skittle in Avery’s room when she did not even like skittles.
Anyways, I am in Avery’s room right now and I am staring at the place she died. The ambulance took her away, but the image of her limp body is still clear as day in my mind. Her short auburn hair was spread across the floor and her red lipstick stood out against her pale face. She was wearing a pink dress that she would always borrow from her mom’s closet and the dress matched her pink eye shadow. What sticks
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As I walk towards Avery’s desk I notice something black that I must have overlooked before. The black object is Avery’s wallet, but there is no money in it. Instead of money there is a small picture of a younger version of Avery standing next to a boy and smiling. The boy was scrawny and tall and he did not look familiar to me. I put the small picture into my pocket to ask Avery’s mom about later. In the meantime I decide to search Avery’s bedroom for further evidence. After a good half an hour of searching I decide to leave. As I am about to leave I realize there is a silver necklace with a cross on it next to Avery’s door. The necklace looks oddly familiar, but I do not remember who the necklace belongs to. I also put the necklace in my pocket for