Dead Girl Talking

Chapter Three, Letter One

                 

Authors Note

Hi Everyone! Chapter Three is out. What do you think of Grace's first confession? I really enjoyed writing this chapter.

Also thank you all so much for over 100 reads, that was a milestone I hoped I would reach in a few months not a few days:) I hope you enjoy the chapter, please feel free to comment and if you are feeling super kind then enlighten me with a vote!

Dear Soph,

I originally wasn't going to write this letter. I didn't know how to put into words all the thoughts swimming around my mind, but I need closure. As do you.

I cannot begin to imagine all the words currently being said about me as you're reading this. And I am forever sorry that you are on the receiving end of the rumours Ashbourne has now created; yet we can't hide from the truth. And the truth is I am dead.

You were the last thing I thought about Soph. I know you will be confused and hurting, and I need you to know that I never wanted to leave you. But I am tired Soph and it is so terribly difficult to feel completely sad and completely tired when all you want is to feel completely alive.

So I have to leave and you will be okay without me. This is the first letter of 10 others, and as I sit in the place we used to play as children and write to you all the pain I have endured, I realize the ink that will scar these pages forever is no longer coming from the pen, but from my heart.

I truly loved you Sophie Smith. You were my best friend, my hero, and the weapon that kept me fighting a lot longer than I should of, which is why I am going to tell you everything I know. Every accusation about the small town we grew up in and the people who live in it. I am telling you this, as I know you will believe me. But I need you to make me a promise. You cannot repeat the things I enclose to you, if these secrets end up slashed across the Ashbourne Times; as I imagine my death was, then many innocent people will end up hurt. Or worse. Like me.

And if there is ever a point where you cannot read on, then I will not judge you. I can't judge you. I am gone.

Unlike many other victims of suicide, it was easy for me to pinpoint the exact moment my world faded from a glorious yellow to a murky grey. I have analyzed the day over and over in my mind, until it was like rereading my favorite book, until I knew it inside out. It all began at Maya Powell's end of summer party, two days before we entered freshman year. I can still remember our giddiness when we scored an invite to it. We felt honored, as if we had been invited to a secret club of sophomore's. Together we went through the routine of deciding what to wear, whether we should arrive early or late and which boys we had our eye on. We were two best friends idolizing our uprising popularity and ourselves.

When we arrived it was all of two minutes until Jason Fields asked you too dance. He was cute in the 'meet the parents' kind of way, you eagerly agreed, and flashed your admiral smile at me before walking of into a granted future of stolen kisses and whispered love notes. I have to apologize to you now Soph, but your requited love sparked a flame in me I hoped never to ignite. I'd never been jealous of you, but as I watched you walk away in that sultry red dress my eyes filled with green.

I was completely alone for the first time in my life. Realisation that the environment around me was full of sweat and drunkness, I made my way from Maya's living room, into the kitchen full of beer pong and victories. I tried to blend in, wrapped a welcome mat around my body, but whether it was my daisy flower crown or the short black skirt wrapped around my legs I was practically drowning in admirable looks of eager eyed sophomores.

It was at that moment I made a decision that would alter my life forever. I decided to go outside. I threw open the back door and walked out. I don't know if you remember but Maya's garden had a lake house at the very back of it. It was beautiful and you spent half of Christmas break there with Jason and your newfound friends whilst I was holidaying in Mexico.

I don't know if it was stupidity, or fate working against me but on that cold August night my body was drawn towards that lake house.

I thought it would be empty. All I wanted to do was look around. Take a breath before reentering the chaos. But as I pushed open the door, I saw the first layer of Ashbourne crumble around me.

I saw your father Sophie, laying bare on the leather couch we both once sat, with a woman who I knew not to be your mother. My body felt like lead. My feet were carved into the floor and no matter how much I tried to move, my mind forged back to the scene in front of me.

The woman was Orla Powell, Maya's mum.

At first I didn't believe it was your dad. But I knew Keith's voice from anywhere. The vomit that stirred in my front threatened to come up, as if to wash away the past 8 years of friendship and laughter I had shared with your dad. A person who was in fact a second father to me. As I shut the door behind me I hoped I would block out the memory of your father with his mistress. But all it did was slam the door on my past life. A life of complete happiness. I now lived a life that was being painted in pale grey.

I never stepped over the boundary of the patio and the lake house, yet I felt as if I had stepped over every single boundary of your family's secrets. I left without you that night. I couldn't face you Sophie. You were a Queen sitting on a glass throne, and I was the rebellion kneeling in the crowd, an unknown threat to both your father and yourself. I confronted Keith in the two years that followed; as you will soon learn later. But somehow I could never confront you.

I cried many tears after that night. And when I next saw Keith at your house, with an arm wrapped tightly around your beautiful mother I had to excuse myself to the bathroom and I threw up every last bit of respect I had for the man. I wanted to tell you for many months after. Everyday that led to my death the scar of the past jaded further into my wrists. But I couldn't destroy you the way this began to destroy me.

So I hid it from you. I put it in a box and threw away the key. And for that I am utterly sorry. My apology is late, and I understand forgiveness cannot be granted but I don't ask for forgiveness, only your full attention Sophie, because my story has only just started and Ashbourne has only faltered one of its many walls.

You will never be the same Sophie I knew and loved after reading all these pieces of paper. But I need you to consume. And I need you to grow. Your dad, Keith was a traitor to the Smith name. He had a perfect daughter, a wonderful wife, and a warm home. But he was willing to trade all that for nights of heat and smoke with a woman whose daughter you sat next to in advanced mathematics.

I felt betrayed by him. Which is why I never told you, because if I felt betrayed then his own daughter would feel numb. And numbness is an emotion I have prayed many times for you too never consume.

So it is with a great burden I tell you this first secret. The first of many others too come. I know you feel betrayed by me and by what you believed to be a glorious dad, but I warn you not to confront your father yet. Finish all the letters. Hate me. Imagine all the years of joy we believed in together never happened. And by the end of my story burn the final pieces that held me in your life.

Sincerely,

Grace

p.s Go to Sunshine Cafe, our usual seats. Ashbournes next secret is waiting for you.