Her Story

The Letter

If you are reading this, my body is soulless. Right now tears are being shed. Words enter the air asking what was wrong and I should of said something. I spoke my words but they entered no ears. I was left in the dark with no twinkle of light.

I took my life because I was tired, so tired of the pain. My chest hurt from the emptyness. I did my best to heal but every time I gained my ground, I found nothing under my feet.

Any golden words I spoke were to please others, so they finally look my way. If a single black word appeared heads turned and I was once again left alone. I could never allow my emotions to be a thing, or I would be labeled selfish. I was labeled other hurtful titles, only ever labeled proud if I aced a test or met the expectations of others. I grew sick and tired of that.

I tried to be happy, but the mask started to fade with the amount of times I used it. By the time you have read this I have said goodbye to this life and I am moving on to my next one, hopefully with listening ears.

Just so this doesnt end with me being the bad guy, I left a box under my bed labeled feelings. Its a notebook I used as a diary. There is many, for I wrote how I felt each day. Pages with green stickers where good days. Yellow marked could of been better. Red were the days I broke down and almost ended my life sooner, but kept pushing. I hope they are helpful.

Sincerely, Nobody.

"Sir," A man, 23, 6 foot exactly, short brown hair with eyes to match, and tan skin turned to an older man, gray hair to show his age but a built body to show his worth. "I found a letter."

Dull blue eyes showing the scars of the years glanced at the letter clutched in the youngers hand, held out to show its worth. "Did you find anything?"

"She has a box of notebooks she used as diarys under her bed. Should we take them back to the office?"

The older man carefully ran his fingers through his wire like mustache, gray like all his hair. "I want you to take them and gather any information you can."

"Yes, sir!"

The older man left the younger as he went to the car waiting for his acquaintance to hurry. Not much longer, the younger came outside with a medium brown box, sharpie writing the word feelings everywhere it could reach. Rushing, the younger quickly put the box in the back before taking his seat in the passenger seat.

"Its sad how many young folk choose death as the answer."

The younger glanced over before looking out the window, "Sometimes the brain and heart agree this world is a mess, and death will be the only doorway that guarantees an escape from the pain."

"Speaking from experience?" He sadly asked as he finally put the car in drive, heading to the office.

"Those sir, were the final words my older sister said to me as I watched her jump from the building."

Glancing over, the older raised a brow, "Yet you did nothing?"

"At the time, I did not understand much of anything. Deep down I realized that would be the last I see of her, but I had hope. A foolish kid I was. I grew up facing my parents with the rage and horror of my actions. I had to hear how it was my fault I did not stop her."

Keeping his eyes trained on the road, the older carefully placed a comforting hand on the youngers shoulder. "You were young with no power, but now you have the power to hopefully change all that."

The younger smiled a weak smile, "I think right now, I will use my power to understand this girl. After all, she wrote down nobody instead of her name."

The two detectives spent the rest of the short ride in silence, each fighting a battle in their head. No words were exchanged as the car was parked and they headed to their own areas in the large office.

Setting the box carefully on his desk, he lifted the top off and took a look inside. Confirming there were notebooks, he reached in a pulled a few out. In bold black font, were the years, clearly marking when and what order.

Grabbing the earliest notebook, he took a seat and opened to the first page marked red, like explained in the letter.