Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a long time but it took me a month to get to where I had time to write this story with school and all that. Here's the next and possibly final chapter, I hope you guys like it!
Bree Davenport sits on her bed writing, she needs the letter to e perfect. No mistakes. Everything that needed to be said had to be in this letter. She couldn't leave anything out. Her hands were shaking with a mix of fear and anticipation. She knew what she needed to do and she was ready. At least she thought she was.
Love always,
Brianna Claire Davenport
And with that, the letter was finished.
It was time.
Bree went down for dinner. Her last meal on earth. She made sure her face had no signs of what she was planning before she went downstairs. Nothing could go wrong. As she took her seat between Adam and Chase, she felt nervous. 'What if they figure it out? They'll hate me more than they already do', she thought. She had to do this. The pain was just too much to handle.
"So sweetie, how was your day?" Tasha asked. 'If only she knew' Bree thought. "It was fine, great actually" Bree murmured, sarcasm dripping, yet no one noticed. She excused herself and went upstairs, locking the door to her room in the process. Imagine the horror if someone walked in. It would ruin everything. No, she knew what she was doing; she had been planning this all day, there were literally no flaws whatsoever.
She was ready.
Robotically, she put the letter right next to where her body will lay, so it's seen along with her. She didn't want to die without giving them an explanation. That would kill her soul. They needed to know why; otherwise her death would mean nothing. She would be forgotten. She would be nothing to them. Her name would be forgotten. No. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to explain to them why she couldn't fight the battle and why she ultimately lost the war, they had to know.
Slowly, she got out her razor, a bottle of sleeping pills, and a bottle of vodka, to really get the job done. No mistakes right? She placed herself on her bed, neatly, and began cutting. When her arm was pouring with blood, she stopped, and opened the bottle of vodka. She drank about half of the bottle before she opened the pills, taking them, handfuls at a time.
About 5 minutes later, she could feel the affects. She laid herself down, razor in one hand, letter in the other, and closed her eyes. The last thing she ever heard was a knock at her door and someone saying "Goodnight Bree", then the world went black.