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We were on speaking terms again. We occasionally sent each other emails or instant messages, asking how each other were doing. We were polite, and she didn't really bring up her new boyfriend, and I tried to tone down the whole "lookout, I'm a depressed psycho with a penitence complex" thing.
This particular night she sent me a garbled IM out of nowhere. Something about drinking too much. I fired back something about "sounds like you've been having a good time, save some for your roommates", to which she clumsily typed out that she was alone and worried. I got a little concerned and asked if everything was alright. She was silent for several minutes. Then a string of random letters, like she was randomly slamming her hands on the keyboard. Then,
I ran as fast as I could. I didn't run very often and was near passing out when I reached her house, eight blocks away. The door was locked and she didn't answer it. I kept banging on it until she stumbled to the door and fumbled the lock open. She was puking everywhere and delerious. I got her a glass of water to drink and helped her vomit into a trash bag. She seemed to be on the verge of alcohol poisoning and I insistently gave her water to drink and encouraged her to purge as much as she could.
When she had her wits about her, she told me to get out. Her boyfriend wouldn't be happy to know that I was over there.
Soon after, I was at a party, half-drunk, consumed with anguish and worrying about her. I hated watching her kill herself when I was her boyfriend, but I hated watching her kill herself when I wasn't around to save her even more. I cried for the first time in two years that night.