After

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” asks Mom again.

I look up from the book I was reading into her worried brown eyes. Am I okay? My best friend just died. Yet, I don’t feel like crying.

“I’m fine, Mom. Just a little tired,” I’m telling the truth. I am tired.

“Well,” she says worriedly, biting her lip. “Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

I nod and look back at the page I was on. I can’t focus on the words anymore. The door closes and I look up to find my mother gone. Sometimes, it surprises me how fast she could move.

I put my book down and stare at my closet. It’s shiny, red doors seem to taunt me. Telling me that some part of Robyn is still in there. I close my eyes and sigh. I should clean out the drawer that has been filled with her things since we were five.

I get up from my messy bed and slowly drag my body to the closet. I place my hands on the knobs and stare at the wooden handles. If I empty out her things, it would mean truly accepting her death. Despite accepting it at her funeral, it’s still hard to accept it fully. I still expect the late night calls and random invites to her house.

It’s strange not having a best friend anymore.

I open the doors as fast as I can and stare at the shelves and drawers filled with clothes, blankets, shoes, and other things. All are red except one. Robyn’s drawer is yellow, her favorite color. We had painted it when we were twelve.

I lick my lips and stare at the drawer as if it could kill me. It holds Robyn’s favorite possessions that she always left here. Her favorite shirt. Her lucky bracelet. Her favorite books and CDs. I never understood why she left those things here. I mean, if they’re her favorite possessions, why leave them here?

I open the drawer slowly and stare at all the clothes and other things in there. All a part of Robyn’s life.

I rummage through her things slowly, putting everything in a box that I’ll take to Cheryl later. After I finish reminiscing.

I spend an hour looking through that shelf. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I smiled sometimes when I found things that used to make us happy. I even found her old teddy bear, Senior Fluffy, way in the back.

Just when I’m about to close the shelf, something catches my attention. It’s green, like her eyes were, with a gold lock. Right on top of it, is a necklace with a small, heart shaped key. I stare at it. When did Robyn bring a journal here?

My hand trembles slightly as I reach for the journal. I should give it to Cheryl; it would give her peace to know her only child’s thoughts, but, is it selfish to want to know what my best friend had felt in the past. It could be the only connection I have left to her.

I grab the journal along with the chain and quickly close the drawer. I run out of the closet, clutching both items to my chest and jump onto my bed.

My heart’s beating rapidly and I catch my reflection in the dresser’s mirror. My raven black hair looks flat and boring. My skin is pale beneath the permanent tan and I’ve gotten even skinnier than I already was. But my dark brown eyes, which almost look black, hold emotion for the first time since I’ve heard of my best friend’s death and that’s good, right?

The journal seems to be calling to me, telling me to read it. Although I feel somewhat guilty to be reading it, I need to read it. It can get me past what Robyn had done. And then, maybe one day, I’ll be able to visit the tree house.

I softly grab a hold of the key and open the lock. The lock softly pops open and I flip it open. My eyes widen when I find an envelope inside.

With my name written on the front.


Dear Amy,

If you found this, it means I’m already dead. Why else would you have been looking through my drawer?

I can’t yet explain to you why I killed myself. Its way too complicated, too long an explanation to put just in a letter. I guess this is just to prologue to my real suicide note.

I didn’t want to die Amy. I was only sixteen. And you know me, I loved life. But as you can tell by me using past tense when I write about myself, I’ve already given up.

And you’ll get mad at me and you probably haven’t cried at all since my death. I know you Amy; at some point, you’re going to want to throw away the journal. But you can’t throw it away.

If this journal falls into the wrong hands, it’ll be the end Amy.

You’re confused now. And annoyed that even in death, I’m telling you what to do. And I’m sorry I was such a horrible friend. I didn’t deserve a friend like you.

You were always there for me and I wasn’t even there when you had your first boyfriend and breakup. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done that has hurt you.

You were my best friend.

And that’s why you need to know what happened to me in the past year. You deserve the truth. And no matter how far-fetched it seems in there, you need to believe it. Because by just knowing me, Amy, you’ll be pulled into my mess.

They’re going to look for you Amy. You’re going to have to hide after a while. You’ll know when. That’s when he’ll reveal himself to you.

I’m sorry for putting you in this mess. You don’t deserve it, but you’re my best friend and they’re going to look for you. So you need to be ready and know the truth for when they do.

You were the sister I never had, Amy. I just hope that one day, you’ll forgive me.

Love,

Robyn.