Jellybeans

My name is Kayleigh Anne Tesla. I am currently seventeen years old, and the only child of Elizabeth and Jonah Tesla. I am a senior at Gettysburg High School, and was to attend The Art Institute of York this coming September. I suppose I’ll never see what it is like to be a true artist.
The blonde bit her lip, running a shaky head over her pixie cut in attempts to calm herself. Her hand, which held the red pen, was shaking too hard for her letter to be legible.
She wondered aimlessly if that was a problem.
Who even reads these things?
She had watched a few crime shows before, and they always analyze the suicide notes – trying to decipher if it was actually a suicide or a murder.
She really hoped that wouldn’t happen. The whole note was really only intended for a few people to see. The first paragraph was just… back story.
She groaned, sitting back in the chair to stare up at the bottom of her mattress.
“There has gotta be an easier way to do this…” She whispered, moving her glasses to rub her eyes tiredly. They were still swollen and occasionally would leak a tear or two from sheer memory.
She turned her head slightly, staring out into the warm evening through the open door of her balcony. Blinking once, she pushed away from the desk and walked into the comforting breeze.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the wood of the railing, staring at the trees across from their house.
“Really, what was I thinking?” She croaked out, pushing her head into her arms. “That moment, that bloody moment, I just had to blurt that out. And god – her reaction!” She tossed her arms up and spun around to plop down into a lawn chair.
“She was so… disgusted.” She hid her face in her knees, hugging them to her chest. Blinking, she wondered if she would ever really run out of tears. Her glasses had long ago fogged up from the heated tears, making it even more impossible for her to see.
She let out a short sigh, bringing her head up.
“To hell with the bloody letter,” she decided, standing up.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“Kayleigh?”
“Yeah, dad?”
“Listen, I have to go to Italy in about half an hour, I’m really sorry. I know I said I’d spend time with you, and all, but there’s an emerge-”
“Don’t worry about it dad.”
“You’re the best, hun. Listen, when I get back, we’re going to spend some quality time together, okay? We’re going to go somewhere, maybe the beach. Just the two of us.”
“That’d be nice dad.” Even nicer if it was true.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

She had to stand on her tiptoes to fish through the medicine cabinet, which was practically bursting with prescription pills her mother took.
“One of these…” She mumbled, reading each label carefully. Until she finally came across one that fit her description – “Lethal when taken in large doses, do not take more than the recommended dosage.” She snatched the bottle, tossing the cabinet closed and rushing out of her parent’s bathroom.
Walking across the hallway, she noticed her father on the phone in his study, pacing back and forth. A pang of premature regret went through her chest.
“Get out. Just get the fuck out.”
She flinched, cradling the orange pill bottle to her chest as she rushed back up the stairs.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

I have to do this.
Ihave to.
I love her, she hates me…
Shehates me.
I… I don’t think I can move.
Did I already take them?
No, no, my leg is twitching.
I’m not seizing.
Yet-

She stared at the pills spread out on the floor of the balcony, the only light coming from the room, casting an odd silhouette across the wood porch. There were more than twenty of the small white pills left in the orange container.
Biting her lip, she set aside three… then five… then eight… then eleven… She kept spreading the pills out over and over again, measuring, re-measuring, debating the amount to take.
The look of distaste, the pure fury in her expression… The conversation ran through her mind continuously, like a broken record, the lines repeated.
And before she knew it, she had swallowed all twenty six little white pills.
Setting down the water bottle, she paused, staring at the trees, which twisted and turned – dancing in the offending breeze.
Crickets were loud in the dark evening, an owl occasionally would sing, asking silently who was there.

The blonde stood and walked into her room momentarily, digging through her purse to pull out her cell phone, then returned to her spot on the floor of the balcony. The drugs were taking effect; numbness began to surround her, pounding through her dully.
She hadn’t even realized she had begun to cry.
Clicking the ‘send’ button on her phone, she decided to forget the letters, forget the messy scrawl, she would just tell her.
The familiar voice said her name in a questioning tone, making a spike of regret, remorse and complete agony shoot through her, “…Ah…” She began.