13 Photos
If you're reading this, I'm dead. But, you probably already know that.
I dropped the page to the floor. A gasp escaped my lips. The letter was from Adrienne. The girl next door. She was dead. But, everyone knew that. It had happened a while ago. I stooped down to look at the letter once more. I didn't pick it up, I didn't dare. This had to be a trick.
No, this isn't a trick.
Is ucked in air once more, staring at the rounded letters that covered the page. The writing that could only be discerned as Adrienne Magleby's. No one else had that tell tale curve to their script. But, no one knew it that well. No one but me that is.
If this letter gets to you in time, it should be before my funeral. That is, unless my aunt decides to bury me two days after I died. That would be most anti climactic. Plus, it would ruin my plan.
If you are reading this letter, you have a mission. I am dead, yes, but, do you know how I died. What am I saying? Of course you know how I died. I committed suicide. That much is obvious. And, if you doubted that fact before, it's got to be obvious now. After all, I am sending you a letter telling you so.
There was that humor. Adrienne was a natural comedian. Always making jokes, always happy. Her suicide had been such an enormous shock to me when I found out. It made no sense to me, to anyone. Adrienne had been so happy.
What you don't know, is why I did it.
Aren't you wondering why? I would be. Especially if I believed my own charade. Well, reader, you are going to find out. I am going to tell you.
You are going to receive 13 other letters besides this one. Each one, will contain a letter, along with a photo. I ask you, since you are the last one to receive these letters. At least I hope you are. If you aren't, someone messed up the mailing system. I am asking you, Zoey Burke, to tell EVERYONE why I did it. If you get the last of the letters before my funeral, Zoey, I need you to tell everyone. Not that I have a flair for the dramatics or anything.
I laughed at that. Adrienne had been fairly dramatic. She always needed attention. Not needed, she wasn't like that. She just, thrived off of it. She wasn't like your ordinary drama queen. She... she was just different. The fact that she said my name made me flinch. Then these letters were for me. No doubt about that now.
I'm just asking you, master writer, to tell my story. Tell it the way I never could. My photos, my talent, is the only way I have to explain to you why I have left you. They... they tell a story only you could understand. And, me that is. After all, I'm the one telling it.
Oh, Adrienne, I cried in my head, what have I done? This is all my fault. If I hadn't... If I could have... IF SHE HAD JUST TOLD ME!! I COULD HAVE HELPED HER. But, she didn't. She didn't tell anyone. I don't think she wanted to tell anyone. She didn't want help. If she did, she could have just walked across the street and asked.
Why was I blaming Adrienne?
That was low. I internally smacked myself for even thinking that.
Someone, or maybe, lots of people were to blame. I would find out soon enough.
