Greetings All! So, if you read Pressure, you know what this story is about, if you didn't, please read this!
This story is basically all true, with a few tweaks here and there, and is about me and one of my best friends, Amanda Rae. She had a similar story to James in my story Pressure, and she is one of the reasons I cannot continue that story. Here is explaining why.
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush, or anything you may recognize.
Warnings: Swearing, Self-Harm, Suicide, Eating Disorders.
Enjoy, and please review when you're finished! (:
She was young. Too young. But old enough to understand. Understand what society made "beauty" out to be. She had to be thin, in order to be pretty. She had to have bleach blonde hair, pouty lips, gorgeous brown eyes, just to be a somebody; to be considered beautiful. But what she didn't know, was everyone… every single person, monkey, giraffe, cow, and tambourine in the entire world; every single one of them, was absolutely gorgeous, all in their own special way.
But how was she supposed to know. Her mother was too wrapped up in her business to tend to her, and her father was an abusive drunk who sat on the couch all day, drowning in his sorrows, wondering where he had gone wrong. Nobody told her the truth, she was just fed lie, after lie, after lie.
And pretty soon, she made those lies into a reality. She became a beast. She became the monster that society created; she became everything we wished she wouldn't. But it was too strong; we couldn't pull her back out of it. We tried so fucking hard, but nothing worked.
Soon enough, everything was about… being pretty, being thin; losing weight, and acting like a snooty little bitch. Yep, everyone absolutely loved her. She was part of the popular crowd, whatever the fuck that meant. So we left her alone; we were absolutely fed up with trying to change her mind and bring her back. She could do whatever the hell she wanted.
See if I care, I always thought to myself. I acted as if I couldn't stand her, as if it hurt to even look at her face, but honestly, I cared. I cared so much… that every single day of my short life, I woke up, hoping and praying my life was one big nightmare. Because I missed her. God, I missed her so fucking much.
It was the beginning of seventh grade. I thought I was really over being her friend, I really did. I had stopped crying over her, stopped worrying about her, stopped obsessing over the fact that she ditched us; I had no feeling left about that situation. Until Monday, September 12th, 2010. You want to know what happened that morning, when I walked into the bathrooms?
I heard gagging, coughing, spluttering. Maybe somebody just got sick, was my first initial thought. It happened all the time. I didn't pay no mind to it, fixing my hair, since that morning, my brothers had been taking their sweet ass time in my bathroom. But I really started worrying when I heard this mystery girl speak, or more like cry.
"I can't handle this anymore," she sobbed, sounding like she was crying into her hands. "I have to be perfect, I have to be thin. But it's just too hard!" It broke my heart, it really did. It would with any girl, but the fact that that girl in there was my ex-best friend, Josephine Taylor, forcing her fingers down her own throat, trying to throw up, that… ripped me to shreds.
I shimmied my way over to the third stall, lightly knocking. "Jo-Jo," I spoke lightly, calling her by the nickname I gave her in grade three. "It's me, Camille. Please open up." I heard a small click, then a bit of shuffling. The door slowly opened.
And as if what I just heard hadn't hurt me enough, I was just fucking dead now. What I saw, was absolutely horrible. I was horrified, in shock; I couldn't believe my eyes. I felt like breaking down into sobs right then and there, and I stared at the girl I once called my best friend.
Her plump, rosy cheeks were replaced with sunken in cheekbones, creating huge dents in her face. Her eyes were saggy, the once warm, chocolaty brown eyes were now dark, dull, and lifeless. Her lips were thin and pale, as well as the rest of her skin tone. I looked down to her torso, where… she wasn't even there.
I couldn't stand the sight of her. It was… sickening. It made me want to throw up, but it also made me want to throw my arms around her and tell her everything would be alright, but I couldn't do that, because I really didn't know if it would be.
I took hold of her thin, chicken leg like arms, lightly wrapping my fingers around the bone. "I'm going to help you, okay?" She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to change you back. But I can only do that, Jo-Jo, if you let me," I whispered, tears falling from my eyes.
Another nod came from the bleach blonde as she threw her arms around me and hugged me as tight as she could, which wasn't really tight. I let out a sob at the fact that she was just basically nothing now, and we stood there, in the bathroom for the first two periods, bawling in each other's arms.
Throughout the next few weeks, I'd been trying. I really had. I would practically force feed her food, but it would just come back up her throat again. It wouldn't stay down, no matter how hard I tried. She knew I was getting frustrated, impatient with her, and she felt sorry, I know she did, because she was trying her absolute best to cooperate and get herself back to normal, but we just couldn't do it.
One day, it was probably around January 18th or 19th, I can't remember, I went over to her house, trudging through the snow, before my hockey practice. I don't remember much, because I was crying so hard, but it was a horrible day, it really was. I couldn't believe what I was about to do.
I rapped my gloved hand on the door a couple times, waiting in my yellow and purple hockey jersey, as the cold wind blew in my face. The door opened to reveal Jo's little sister. Her name was Stacy. Such a pretty name, I remember thinking. "Hey Stace, is Jo-Jo home?" I asked, bending down to the six year old's height.
Stacy nodded, smiling at me with big brown eyes. Sort of how Jo-Jo's used to look. "She's up in her room, she's been there all day!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. She loved her sister very much, I could tell.
"Alright, thanks, baby," I planted a kiss on the top of her brunette head, before shuffling my boots off my feet and charging up the stairs. I counted the many doors before I got to the sixth one on the right. Stopping, I stood in front of the door, taking deep breaths.
I can do this. It's for the best, I kept telling myself. I had to end our friendship. I knew it was sudden, but Jo was effecting my grades, and my sports performance, so I needed to do this, for my future! I was planning on being a professional hockey player, y'know?
I knocked on the door three times, waiting patiently for Jo to come open the door. But she never did. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if she was sleeping or not. I knocked again, but there was no answer, so I decided to invite myself on in.
BAD IDEA!
What I saw was… terrible, horrifying, heart-clenching, knife-twistingly painful. I couldn't believe my eyes. My hand flew straight to my mouth, to try to muffle the scream that erupted from my throat. I wrenched out my cell phone, dialling 9-1-1 quickly.
"Hello, this is 9-1-1, what's your emergency?" The lady asked me.
I don't even remember what came out of my mouth. I was hysterical, sobbing onto my best friend's chest, my hand's covered in her blood. I was still on the phone with 9-1-1; they tried their best to calm me down, but nothing anybody could say would ever get me to stop crying and to be calm.
How the hell could I? I had just seen my best friend, with a butcher knife in her hand, with the words Not Good Enough written on her arms. I will never be able to get that image out of my head. Her sitting on her bed, the knife dripping blood on her pink carpet, and jagged, broken words on her small, pale arms.
At her funeral, I stood there, emotionless. I couldn't say anything until I was sure everyone was gone. I looked down at her coffin, that was already lowered into the ground. I let a small sob escape my mouth before I uttered four words. "You were good enough."
As I turned, I was met with her mother, who was letting tears fall freely down her face. She had a note in her hand. She held it out to me. "Here. I found this in Jo's room. It's addressed to you, so I didn't read it," she placed it in my hands, watching as I clenched my fist around the paper.
I looked into Mrs. Taylor's brown eyes, chewing on my lower lip. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I couldn't save her…" She pulled me in for a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around me. "You did all you could. Thank you."
I nodded, pulling away from her. She was really a nice lady, despite the fact that she was always too busy to spend time with her children. She really cared, and she was really sweet. "Don't be afraid to ever come by and visit, alright?" She smiled lightly at me, and I nodded a second time.
"I will." And I did, many times…
When she left, I looked down at the note. I decided I'd read it when I got home. Then I decided to read it after mid-terms. Then I decided to read I'd at the end of the school year, and now here I am, a year later, and it hasn't been read yet. So, here it goes.
Dear Dakota, ~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*- Dated: January 18th, 2011
I'm sorry. I'm sorry you wasted your time with me. I'm unfixable. You tried; you tried so hard, Kodes. You put your heart and soul into making me better. You forgot all about hockey, all about your grades, just to help me? Why? I don't understand it, Dakota.
I've been up all night, trying to put the words into place, but it's hard. I don't know what to say. Dakota, you are the most amazing person in my life. You… are the only person who's ever actually believed in me, who ever pushed me to get better. You, Dakota, are a true friend, and I'm sorry I was never one back to you.
But something good comes out of this, right? You can focus on your hockey and school, and I can be here, watching over you, cheering you on. There will never be a moment when I'm not right beside you, helping you, so don't forget about me, kay?
There's not much else to say, is there? I'm sorry, Dakota. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry. Bible. Remember? Remember we used to say that when we were telling the truth, so people would actually believe us?
I'm Sorry; I'm Sorry That I Wasn't Good Enough. I'll Never Be Good Enough…
I love you, Dakota Amber Sky.
Love Always, Amanda Rae
Two weeks ago, I opened that letter for the first time. I read it over and over and over. Two days later, I went to her grave and stood there for, it must've been like, an hour, before I sat down and stared at her name.
"Hey Mandi Rae," I said, running my fingers along the cold, hard gravel. "I'm sorry I haven't been here in a while. I just… never accepted the fact that you had left." I played with the flowers in my hand before placing them down.
I stood back up, feeling a cold gust of wind pass by me. "You know, Mandi Rae, for what it was worth, you really were good enough. You always were, and you always will be. I'm sorry, doll."
I placed a kiss on her gravestone, before turning around and walking to my brother's pickup truck. Another gust of wind flew around me and I smiled through my tears. "I miss you," I said, before hopping in the truck.
There, true story right there. I'm sorry if I made y'all cry or anything. I know I bawled a lot.
Well, I hope you guys enjoyed reading it, and this story, it's really for you Amanda Rae Johnson, I love you, baby girl! And I love all you guys! Please leave a review for any feedback!
Love, Dakota.