SERENA SEALED THE finalletter with teary-eyes. It was done. Her last goodbye had been written and sealed.
Pulling out a battered brown box, she dropped the single letter amongst the pile of 12 other uniformed letters. The contents inside differed heavily from person to person, but all of them held the same final purpose and destination : to be delivered to the people Serena cared for.
The act of writing thirteen letters alone should have been enough to convince Serena not to go through with her plan. That once she made this decision, lives would be affected—and not in a good way. Selfless as she was at hating causing anyone any type of pain at all, Serena was tired. She was tired of fighting.
Thirteen seemed like such a small number compared to the endless abundance of pain she'd have to continue to go through by choosing to stay.
No one would miss me anyways.
The sound of her parents quarreling, penetrating through the walls of her bedroom, consolidated her bitter feelings. Screams, yells, cries — over and over, it went on for days, months and turned into years. Always yelling, arguing about what to do about her, how unhappy they were in their relationship, why they couldn't just get a divorce.
Once upon a time, her heart would have dropped and she would've attempted sleeping or blaring loud music through her ears to drown out their verbal assaults towards one another.
Tonight though, it was different.
For the final time — like many things that night — her eyes wandered around her bedroom, if you could even call it that. Serena Wilson's bedroom might as well have been a prison because nothing about it had even the slightest hint of home.
The only visible touch of personification amongst the white furniture was a single grey canvas with a quote chosen by her mother.
"Be the best. If you're not first, you're only second-best." The quote was the first thing that she saw when she woke up, and the last thing she saw before she went to bed.
"And Serena dear, no one likes second-best." her mother's sickly sweet voice rang loud and clear in her mind as if she had just spoken it to her. Her mother would always remind her, without fail, with that statement each time a young Serena failed to get first place in an event or when she brought home an exam paper with anything less than 100.
Anything less than perfection was unacceptable.
Tears fell from her eyes as she stifled another cry, "It's okay Serena," she reassured herself. "It all ends tonight."
The thought of ending it all had been slowly but surely wrapping its fingers around her neck, leaving barely any room from air until recently, she just couldn't breathe. As soon as she did this, she would be free. The thoughts would end, they would.
She didn't dare think about the possibility that they didn't.
Serena placed the brown box underneath her bed. She didn't expect her parents to deliver it hence she had curated another plan. She had pre-set a text to be delivered tomorrow morning to one of her receivers, mentioning that there were letters to be delivered and including the details of where they were in her bedroom.
Whether they would deliver it though was another question. One could only hope.
Serena wasn't worried though, the truth always found itself out. And she knew, it was only time before her letters would reach their recipients—by hook or by crook.
As the clock struck eleven, Serena opened the first drawer of her table and searched through it until her slender fingers grazed upon a bottle. She brought it out, turning the orange-bottle around in her palm.
Adderall.
It had been easy—too easy almost—to obtain the substance. It hadn't even required an ID, merely a pitiful backstory and a pretty smile. A solid minute and $20 poorer, Serena walked out of the pharmacist with a bottle of Adderall, the weight of what she was planning lying heavy in her chest.
No. No backing out.
Twisting the cap with an unnecessary amount of force, the pills splashed out onto the floor and her palms. She barely glanced at the fallen pills. The ones in her hands were enough. They were enough for her to pass peacefully without a chance of failure.
Serena glanced a the picture on her bedside table, a picture of her once-best friends.
"I'm sorry," she whispered right before gulping down the pills.
A few minutes later, the pills started to take effect. Her body convulsed and her temperature began rising at an alarming rate.
But that didn't bother her, instead, Serena smiled softly as she felt all the fight slowly drain from her body.
It was over.
A scream awoke the Wilson household the next bleak morning as Julianna Wilson—Serena's mother—discovered her daughter's lifeless body.
No matter how much Julianna shook her daughter's cold body, Screamed at her for her stupidity, Begged her to come back, Sobbed that it didn't matter if she didn't get into an Ivy League,
That it was all okay, if she would just come back.
Serena didn't open her eyes. She would never open them again.
Serena Wilson, Was dead at 17.
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a little graphic I made, be sure to follow my instagram @/ everrestars for more snippets like these~
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