The True Story of a Dead Girl [Book 1] [Completed]

Her Death

"Kaycie, open the fucking door!" I shouted to the bathroom door.

The shower had been running for ten minutes and I still needed to shower before school.

My younger sister, Kaycie had gotten up early just to piss me off and ruin my day.

"I need to shower too, you little bitch," I yelled, hoping she could hear me over the spray of water.

I felt the knob in my hand before I even knew I was reaching for it. It opened.

"Kaycie-" I started, about to give her a piece of my mind when I saw her.

She was on the floor, the bathroom filled with steam from the shower. I turned it off and then saw the blood. It oozed from slits in her wrist surrounding her in a crimson pool. I screamed.

"DAD! KRISTA!" I screamed for my dad and his new wife. I stood in the doorway, not able to look at my sister anymore. I regretted calling her a bitch. She wasn't. My breathing was jagged, and I had to lean on the door jamb. My legs had turned to jelly. I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to stand. "DAD!" I screamed again. He came, his brown hair getting ruffled by his quick movements.

"Alanna, what is it?" he asked.

I sobbed. "Kaycie-" I couldn't get any more out of my tightening throat. He stood next to me and looked at Kaycie. I continued to cry. Arms wrapped around me and I recognized Krista's favorite vanilla perfume.

[*]

I didn't go to school that day. Dad stayed home from work to clean the bathroom and Krista tried her best to console me. I let her hold me as I cried.

My only sibling was dead.

She killed herself, but why?

It was that question that made me the most emotional. She seemed so happy.
She was a sophomore, she had friends, not a boyfriend that I knew of, but I knew about the guy she had a crush on. If anybody had been bullying her, I knew nothing of it.

Which brought up the new question: why didn't she tell me?

Sure we had our normal sisterly arguments, but she knew I loved her and would drop everything to help her with any problem she was having.

Dad had changed and started a load of laundry. I didn't want to think about the blood that had gotten on his clothes as he cleaned the white tiles.

[*]

Author's Note
I know this is the first part, but I'm not good when it comes to blood. I get a little squeamish, I won't lie, so I asked myself why am I writing this? Somehow I didn't realize what it would take to actually write about Kaycie's death.