On August 26 I was heading home. The cop car that arrived at my house passed by me.... that's the only funny part. When I got home the officers wanted to do a welfare check on my roommate, me and him had been best friends since I was 14. I said "Yeah sure, no problem." I went up the stairs like it was nothing, thought he forgot he had work, thought his headphones were to loud to hear them knocking. I opened the door and I saw him lying on the floor, blood was everywhere and my shotgun was on the ground next to him. I only jumped when the officer got in my line of sight and it broke me out of my trance. I really was in disbelief, I couldn't believe it. I'm a corrections officer, I've dealt with suicides before, this was different, this was my friend, my brother. It wasn't in a cell it was in my home, I couldn't believe what happened. He showed no signs but none really do, I notified who I thought should know and got a ride to my friends house to stay till my mom came and got me, all this was after 11 p.m. I kept blaming myself for weeks, kept saying it was my fault, my gun was used in my home, took the life of my brother. I had to accept it for what it is. As a first responder it is hard to deal with a suicide, as a friend who finds them, it's unbearable I loved him like a brother, and now he's gone. And all I ever asked is why?
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