I handed her the letter, my heart heavy with the weight of its contents. "This is from Celeste, she wanted you to have this," I explained.
Her eyes lit up with excitement as she took the letter from my hands. "What? Really?!" she exclaimed, her smile radiant.
But I couldn't share in her joy. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, and I knew I had to tell her the truth. "I don't think you should be smiling," I cautioned.
Confusion flickered across her face. "Why?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. "It's from Celeste, how bad can it be?"
Taking a deep breath, I knew I had to break the news gently. I sighed heavily and said, "She... Kristina, Celeste killed herself."
Her expression morphed into shock, and she recoiled in disbelief. "What?! No! No no no no. You're lying," she protested, her voice trembling.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Her desperate hope clung to a fragile thread. "This just has to be a dream," she pleaded, desperation filling her words. "Please tell me it's a dream."
I shook my head sadly, and that's when tears began to flow down my face. The harsh reality struck me, and I couldn't hold back the flood of emotions.
Suddenly, a male voice broke the heavy silence, demanding an explanation. I pulled away from Kristina, turning to see a boy and a girl standing nearby. Panic rose within me, uncertain of how to proceed.
"What did you do?" the boy accused, his tone hostile.
"He... he didn't do anything," Kristina stammered, her voice wavering. "Rafe, Jess, go."
Concern etched across the girl's face as she asked, "Why? What's wrong?"
"Please, just go!" Kristina snapped, her frustration evident.
Reluctantly, her two friends obeyed her command, albeit with visible hesitation. I stood there, holding out the letter for Kristina to take, but she fell silent, her eyes fixated on the letter in her hands. I stood by her side as she slowly opened it.
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"My dearest Friend Kris,
I highly doubt that you will ever get this letter, but then again I think it's for the best. I know I never told you about this and that this may be all sudden, but in time the story will be told, but many versions won't be the truth. Only one living person will ever know the whole truth. If you ever get this letter, look for him. But what are the odds that you'll meet him?
That's all. Thank you for everything.
-Cece"
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As Kristina read the letter, her eyes closed tight, and tears streamed down her face. Overwhelmed by grief, she collapsed onto a nearby bench, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Celestia. N-no," she choked out through her tears.
"I'm so sorry, Kristina," I murmured, my voice filled with regret.
She didn't respond, but instead, she embraced me tightly, seeking solace in my presence.
"How did she do it, Zeke?" she sobbed. "Why did she do it?"
I took a moment to steady myself, closing my eyes as I replied, "She shot herself. As for the second question, I don't know."
Her sobs continued, and I did my best to offer comfort, holding her close.
"Kris, it'll be okay," I whispered, my words a feeble attempt to bring solace.
"No, it won't," she uttered, her voice choked with anguish. "It won't."
"It... it'll be okay," I struggled to say, my own voice breaking. "I promise."
At that moment, her two friends returned, drawn by the commotion and concern. They approached cautiously, trying to make sense of the situation.
"I'm gonna go," I announced, keeping my head down, feeling the weight of sorrow bearing down on me.
"See you, Zeke," Kristina said, her voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness.
I helped her up one last time, hugged her tightly, grabbed Celeste's journal, and began the somber journey back home.
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Hours passed since the heartbreaking encounter in the park. Sitting alone, I sifted through Celeste's photos on her phone, most of which captured moments between her, me, and the Queen Mary. In one particular photo, she had her arms wrapped around my neck, and I couldn't help but notice the little red lines that marred her forearms. Despite the pain they represented, she appeared genuinely happy. But was she?
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and I pocketed the phone, making my way towards it. Peering through the peephole, I was surprised to see Kristina standing there. How did she find me?
I opened the door, greeting her with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Kristi-" I began.
"Hey. Please call me Kris, and I'm sorry about earlier," she interrupted, her voice filled with a newfound determination.
"It's fine. When I found out, I took it a lot harder," I admitted, my voice tinged with melancholy.
"Because she was your childhood friend?" she inquired.
A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. "That and the fact that I was there."
"You were? Oh my god, Zeke, I'm so sorry," she responded, her voice laced with empathy.
"It's fine," I reassured her, attempting to downplay the impact it had on me.
"Zeke, who's at the door?" Luna's voice called from her room.
"Girl Scout," I improvised, not wanting to involve Luna in the conversation.
"I don't want anything," Luna's voice called out again.
Kris suggested we step outside, and I obliged, closing the door behind me as we stood on the porch.
"Well, I came here to say that I wanna help you," Kris declared, her words straightforward and resolute.
"Help me?" I repeated, surprised by her offer.
"Yeah. You seem not to know why she did it, and neither do I," she explained. "And I wanna know just as bad as you do. And if you say you don't wanna know, you're a liar."
A flicker of gratitude and hope warmed my heart. "I do wanna know," I confessed. "Are you sure you're up for it, though?"
"Ready as I'll never be. But let's do it," she affirmed. "For Celeste."
"For Celeste," I echoed, the weight of our shared purpose guiding us forward.
YOU ARE READING
Memories
Teen Fiction----- This book series was written by someone who was struggling mentally in high school. Things will be cringey and may not make sense. Harsh topics will be brought up. My only hope is that you have fun if you choose to read. Thank you. Thank you t...
