My Last Words

Chapter 1

I used to sit next to Kayla. We talked from time to time, but we never really got to know each other. I wish I had though, but it's too late for that now.

After her death, I've been getting lost in my own thoughts more often. Wondering what would have happened if we had talked more, gotten to know one another, maybe even became friends.

Would she still be here today?

I sighed loudly. People can think of all the 'what if's' in the world but they become useless when it's too late to do anything. I guess Kayla's family and friends had to learn that the hard way. The thought made me smirk. I had already learned that long before any of this.

I stopped walking and shot my gaze up from the the gray sement sidewalk. I had stopped right in front of Kayla's house, well, what used to be her house. It was a normal house, nothing special about it. It looked like most of the other houses in the neighborhood, but the lights were not on and the blinds were closed. I could only imagin what was happening behind the closed doors of the Adam's house. They had gone through so much.

Taking one last look at the house, I continued home. The day went by as any other day would, as if the world didn't care that a life was lost only 2 weeks ago. About 4 days after her death, Kayla's family held her funeral. Most of the school attended. I wanted to go, pay my respects and tell the family how sorry I was for their loss, but I didn't. I regret not going, though. I knew her older brother Dimitri very well; we were both on our school's basketball team and we got to know each other and become good friends. I should have gone to Kayla's funeral, to support him. Aren't I a great friend?

I finally got home after what seemed like hours of walking. Once home, I went to my room and laid on my bed, exauhsted from the long day at school, my black bangs falling onto my face and covering my left eye. I wasn't emo, I didn't write poetry about how bad the world is and how nothing would get better, I just liked that style and luckily most people excepted it.

Grabbing my headphones, I turned on the music volume loud enough to block out all the noise and let myself get lost in the music. Music helped me escape the world, helped me forget everything and just drift off. It's a nice feeling, being able to just get lost in the moment and to not care about everything around me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw my bedroom door open. I took off my headphones and sat up immediatly after I saw who was standing in the doorway.

"Trace, I called you 5 times. You need to turn that music down and why aren't you doing you're homework?"

"Sorry mom..." I said. My mom can be intimidating sometimes, and today she was. My grade haven't been great lately, and she's been nailing me about it ever since last month when report cards came in.

My mom sighed, clearly annoyed and disapointed with me. "When will you learn, Trace? Why can't you be like Erika or Hayden?" She waited for me to give her an answer, but I couldn't think of one. She always compared me to my older sister Erika: the smart, popular girl, and my older brother Hayden: the jock who had a new girlfriend almost every other week. Then there's me: the awkward freshmen who just wanted to get through the year with his head.

"There's a package downstairs for you. I don't know who it's from there's no address."

"Ok," I told her, suprised that a package came for me. "I'll get it soon."

"Good. After you come get it I expect your homework to be done before dinner. And I don't want you up all night texting or whatever you do in here." My mom said, no, stated. Like I said, she expects a lot from me. She wants me to "set a good example" for my little sister Rebecca.

"Yes mom."

She closed my door and left. I could hear her footsteps get softer and softer as she went back downstairs, probably to finish making dinner.

I sighed, and after a few minutes decide to go downstairs and grab my package. It was a small box, nothing special about it. On the box was my address, zip code, etc. But there was no retun address, which to me was odd.

I brought the package back to my room and set it on my desk. After stuggling to get it open with a pair of scissor, I was finally able to get the box open. What I found inside suprised me. In the box were 14 CD's, a map of the city, and a 3x5 note card with writing in purple pen.

I picked up the note card and read the text, clearly written in a rush since it wasn't in the neatest handwriting. The note card itself looked worn and tattered on the edges, and at one point water must have gotten on it because the purple ink from the pen had bleed throughout the small lined paper.

I wasn't stupid. Don't ignore me again. That was your BIGGEST mistake.

The handwriting... It looks like hers.

I don't belive it.

*********************

I have an announcement everyone!

I'm going to be re-writing all of my other stories.

I really like all of the ones I've shared with you all, but I'm just not happy with how they're turning out. Let me know which one you guys want me to re-write first (It'll probably be "My Boyfriend's a Murder").

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Stay Beautiful

-Lauren390