The red and blue lights of the police illuminate the street and point to the house that I've been sent to. I'm not sure how they got there before me, as it took all of 90 seconds for me to arrive, but I'm glad of their presence nonetheless. This doesn't sound like the type of call I'd like to be at on my own for too long.
She sits downstairs, clutching an innocent looking piece of paper as if her life depended on it. The chair squeaks as she rocks backwards and forwards, fighting the rising tide of tears that are about to break the dam. I'm directed upstairs by one of the police officers, whilst another helps carry one of the bags that I've dragged hurriedly out of the car. The initial sight of tears and pale shock tells me that the bags are going to be redundant.
The piece of paper was stuck to the fridge, oblivious to the pain it was about to unleash. She saw it on the fridge door, but didn't register at first that it was a new note amongst all the others stuck there by a multitude of colourful magnets. She'd been in and out of the kitchen a few times before finally taking a proper look. Then her world collapsed around her.
Too afraid to go upstairs herself, she called the police. They had turned up, looked at the piece of paper, and ran around every room in the house. His room was the last they checked. When they found him, one of their number called for the ambulance. He lay there motionless, cold and blue. The blood on the walls and the floor had long since dried and turned from crimson red to dark brown. Next to him lay the weapon that had ended his life, destroyed his future and shattered his parents' world.
She clutched it and begged for answers that she knew would never come. "I'm sorry. There is really no other way."
A silent, innocent, clean piece of paper.