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Amila walked down the path, a frown covering her face, emotionless eyes accompying them. She looked up at the small rental before her, and quickly came to a stop by the door. Her fingers shook slightly as she attempted for the key in her pocket. She took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. Her deep frown instantly lifted to a fake smile as she stepped onto the wooden floorboards. She dropped her bag in the doorway and headed for the stairs.

"Amy!" Her mother shouted from the kitchen. She grimaced as she turned to face the approaching adult. "Mum?" She asked softly. Her mother sent her a warm smile as her brother sat on a stool, a hand cupping his chin. "Dinners in 10," She simply replied. Amila nodded and looked back to the stairs, but was stopped again. "How was school?" Her mother asked. She turned and gave her a smile,"Awesome," She said sarcastically, skipping up the steps before they could converse more.

Hot tears rolled off her chin and her eyes turned glassy. Her family loved her now, but they were too late. Her best friends had helped, but they hadn't helped enough. She walked into her room and wiped her face in her sleeve. She pulled at her tie and walked to the counter that was against a large window. She reached for the top drawer, but stopped before she touched the handle.

She looked at the phone, beeping away atop the brown desk. She hesitated slightly before pressing the button, her nose sniffling as the voice spoke. "Hey! How are ya'purple? Ha, Purple! How did you even get that nickname?" Her friend trailed off. She hesitated before letting the memory in. Her family was out near the washing line, hand painting on graffiti paper. Instead of using her hands, she flopped down on the purple paint and rolled around. Afterwards, her father cleaned her off with the hose, yet a purple strand was left permanently in her hair, until she got it dyed.

"Anyway, I have to cancel tomorrow, Got to take mickey to the vet, love ya, lata!" With that the message cut off. Amila sighed and her head dropped slightly. She turned to her drawer and ripped the shelf open. Picking up a bottle, a needle and a small note she turned toward the mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes were grieving now. Breathing deep, she twisted the cap off the bottle and spilled the contents onto her hand.

She immediately put them into her mouth. She could never do it before, and she had never known why. No one would miss her, everyone left after a while. In a hit, her vision blurred and her skin paled. She felt sick, but grasped the needle. She felt small fluids rise in her throat, but held it down. She gritted her teeth as her legs shook.

She gripped the needle tightly, stabbing it right into her arm. Her eyes widened as she gave out a whimpered breath, some unknown - yet still illegal - drug filling her bloodstream. She felt her breath slow, and her heart pounded inside her chest. She turned to the bedroom, and stumbled toward the soft mattress.

She launched her hands out in front of her as she pushed herself onto the bed. Her breath hitched and she pulled the small paper from before out of her pocket and onto the cushioned surface. Her eyes closed slightly and she let her legs go, falling into the relief of the pillows. At that moment her mind zipped. She was hit with realisation, she suddenly knew who would love her if she needed it. She wanted to take it back, call for help, cry, but it was too late.

Her head tilted and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her grip on the note slipped and it fell between her fingers. Her mind flashed to her father, how he died on that motorcycle. He had given her his helmet and took the force of her blow, without even saying goodbye before he collapsed. She remembered how it hurt her, her family. Now she had gone and repeated the process. No note could change that, and it was too late.

She felt nothing and her head dropped to her shoulder, releasing one last breath as her lips parted. Her mother stumbled into the room,"Amy, time to-" She stopped and saw her daughter, motionless on her bed, a note peaking between her fingers and her lips purple. Tears hit her instantly,"Amy?!" She screamed. Footsteps were heard running up the staircase as her mother collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"Mum, whats -? Amy!" Her brother soon was by her side, tears streaming down his face also. He put his hand to her face, it was now pale and her skin was cold. He skimmed a finger over her purple lips and soon his eyes met the note in her hand. "Mum-- We need to get help," He said, putting the note into his hands and dashing to their mother.

Instead of speaking, her mother collapsed into his arms, crying and sobbing. He didn't argue, he had seemed to expect it. His legs soon gave out also. He held his vocal tears back and let his mother cry, seeming it right for her to have a turn before him. He turned to the note and pealed it open. His mother peaked through his arms and looked at the small paper note, reading it briefly and collapsing into his arms again. 

Years later, her funeral long gone, her brother now worked with children; he had become a doctor like his sister wanted to be. He worked with kids, and teens, who wanted to deal themselves the same treatment his sister faced. Her mother had re-married, yet her life was never happy. She never smiled as she used to, her new family never facing the smile she gave her daughter that gloomy afternoon.

Her friends were like they used to be. That was what people thought, but not really. Everyone knew they didn't throw sleepovers, or go to the mall. They would just sit down and talk, using the same fake smile Amila had to hide the guilt they didn't deserve. When her birthday rolled around, however, everyone was darker.

Her brother didn't turn up for work, leaving a small note with one word in his bosses office.

Her mother left her duties, leaving a note with a single word on the fridge door.

Her best friends skipped school, sending a text with a single word to the principal.

They went to the grave that held only one word under the name of the departed.

Resting in the coffin of whom they loved, sat a note with a single word.

'GOODBYE'