Kayla's Dead

{TW: suicide, depression, self-harm, anorexia.... mainly in the prologue} Kayla's dead. That much is evident. But in many ways, this isn't her story. It's the story of those that loved... love her.

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1. Prologue

The room around her was rather quiet. Her parents were gone, not that they’d care anyway. “At least they went out with a bang.” The common phrase brought a sick smile to her lips. It would be better this way. She could leave more of an impact like this. She sent her last email, addressed to Ruthie and Alex. Then, she set aside the physical note on her bed and removed her favorite sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was a little tattered and now a faded navy from use. She folded it gently and set it close to her. On top, she placed five notebooks. One for Ruthie, Alex, her parents, Mr. Halley, and one for the world. Each was around two hundred pages and bright yellow. 

Now, onto the next step. 

She removed her sweatshirt and jeans and let them fall to the floor. Her tightly stretched skin became marred with goosebumps at the cold. Her skin was quite the battle field anyway. In her closest, she retrieved a nice suit, a tuxedo Mr. Halley had let her borrow. She put it on, letting the crisp fabric envelop her. 

I needn’t go into details, but she retrieved a blade and destroyed herself one last time. Once she had been cleansed of those thoughts, she turned to her nightstand. There, a set of different medications stood next to a bottle of vodka. Her parents wouldn’t miss it. Wouldn’t miss her either. Maybe her friends would, but they’d be better off long-term. That sick smile reappeared as she realized she wouldn’t have to get up the next morning. 

And then, it began. She grabbed the ice-cold alcohol and got into a rhythm of swallowing and grabbing. The alcohol felt good on her throat. It was burning, numb, that subtly warm. The bottle became lighter with each sip. The world began to spin, and her stomach felt sour. Anything left from reality left her. She was unsure if she was crying at this point, she couldn’t feel her skin anymore. Her lips felt cold. Everything felt cold, and she enjoyed it. It was better than feeling nothing at all. 

You can imagine how this continued. 

To make a long story short, Kayla is dead.

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