Jellybeans

As the brunette drove down the empty streets of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania at ten past six in the morning, she couldn’t help but think about those dreams where you are being chased – or are chasing something – but cannot seem to move quickly enough.
Though the roads were cleared, the occasional early bird driver would pass her, she remained only just above the speed limit. Why? – Her mother.
It was her mother’s car that she had taken without permission, and if she damaged it at all, she was literally dead. The car was not, by any stretch of the imagination, amazing. A rather old; and slightly rusted VW Polo her mom had gotten at a second hand car shop. But it was her mother’s means of transportation to both of her jobs, and it meant the world to her.
So she drove the speed limit.
That was, until, she glanced at the dashboard clock.
6:14
Kayleigh had called eight minutes ago.
She could have done a number of things by now.
Poison takes – what? Four minutes to kick in? Arteries bleed out in a matter of moments, depending on how deep you cut. She could have hung herself! Her neck snapped; people can only survive without air for three minutes, Kayleigh even less since she was so small. Or! She ran away! And now had a head start, she could have already bought plane tickets and go to some far off city and becomeawhoreandhavesomeotherguytouchherand-.
She stopped thinking as soon as she felt the gas pedal hit the carpet of the floor, screeching down the high way with the speedometer needle’s neon glow slowing jumping to the right.

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

“The brakes work,” She mumbled subtly as she ran to the front door, it turning exactly to a twenty past six as she used her own personal copy of the Tesla’s house key.
She had obtained said silver key about four years ago, at the end of eighth grade. After Kayleigh had locked herself out of the house – again, Violet finally took one of the extra keys to keep on hand in case she did it once more in her life.
She slammed the oak door closed, before looking around hastily. There was something different about the air in the room.
“Kayleig- Oh! Violet, good to see you again.” Kayleigh’s blonde father walked into the room, staring the girl up and down for a moment with a bewildered expression on his tired, lined face, “What brings you here this early in the morning?”
“Kay. Where is she?” Violet asked, the muscles in her legs tensing, her shoulders pulled back. Her hands clutched the keys to her mother’s car to her chest, a dull ache right over her heart.
“In her room… Probably still aslee-” He didn’t get a chance to finish as Violet bolted up the stairs.

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

The white door was long ago decorated with splattered, neon colours. It had happened perhaps over seven years ago, when both the brunette and the blonde were rather young.
“Your door is boring.”
“W-what?”
The blonde turned her head up to face her best friend, who had paused from dressing the blonde Barbie doll in a tight blue miniskirt, to stare at the white door.
“It’s boring, and white. And really plain. Kind of like you.” She turned to the blonde.
Kayleigh’s face scrunched a bit, “Sorry.” She said.
“Let’s fix it!” The brunette stood up, dragging the blonde with her.
That day, the two, ten year old girls had splashed paint across the white door, covering most of the walls and carpeting as well. Kayleigh’s parents were furious, but long ago was the carpet replaced and the surrounding walls painted a creamy yellow colour.
But the splattered neon of the door remained… as did the memories of simple childhood.

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

And that splatter painted door clattered against the green wall as a disheveled brunette teenager, wearing sweat pants and an oversized Lakers t-shirt forced it open and fell into her friend’s room. The room that was empty. Well, the inside was anyways.
The eerie yellow cast of the morning sun splashed across the room, drawing the blue eyes away from the emptiness to the outside world – the balcony where a blonde girl laid on her side, staring with unblinking eyes at the rising sun.
“Kayleigh…” Violet whispered, rushing forward, only to slow to a stop beside her friend.
“Kay… Can you hear me?” She asked, turning her friend over in her lap. Her bony shoulder blade stuck into her legs, but she couldn’t care less.
The brown eyes were hazy, not focusing on her, but dancing across the ceiling as they rolled back in their sockets. The muscles below the pale skin tensed and untensed, as if unsure of what to do.

Evidence – (noun) something which provides ground for belief or disbelief.
This was the word that popped into the untrained - and slightly scathed mind of Violet Straus on the eerie, dreadful morning.
Glancing around the sun-stained balcony, her eyes were drawn to an orange bottle, which lay open next to the white cap and an opened bottle of water, half empty – or half full, depending on how you look at it.
Without a second thought, Violet shoved the smaller girl off of her, and ran into her room. She scattered the already haphazard papers on her desk around to find a mechanical pencil and ran back to the half-conscious teenager.
“Sorry love,” She whispered, prying open the slightly ajar jaw to stick the end of the pencil down her friend’s throat.
Within seconds, she was gagging up her stomach contents.
The blonde turned on her side, coughing as the acidic smell entered the once clear, grassy smelling air. She coughed again, gagging, choking on the half digested pills as they came back up her throat.
She laid on her side for a moment, staring at the pile of yellowy goo that was once in her stomach before turning over on her back to face the unreadable face of Violet.
“…Vi…” She whispered quietly, a croaking sound in her throat.
And then, the blonde passed out.