"Kelly was only thirteen when she was taken from us. We searched for her for months, but the police couldn't continue searching and closed the case. We mourned for months over the supposed loss of our Kelly. That's when we got the letter in the mail from a police department a few states over. He told us he had seen Kelly alive and there was hope of finding her if they followed the trail.
"Unfortunately, the trail went cold after just a few weeks and she was lost again. I told the police not to notify us again unless she was found for sure. We couldn't go through that pain again and again. So, we didn't hear for a year and three months. We figured she was gone forever. Until we got this phone call. No one ever wants to get this phone call. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
"We were notified that Kelly's body had been found and she was gone. I wouldn't wish this news on my worst enemy. I said we didn't want to know details, because I want to remember my baby girl as she was when I last knew her: innocent, pure, loving, kind and the best little girl any mom could wish for. I'll miss you so much, Kelly."
Kelly's mother went back to her seat at the funeral and Trace held her tightly, comforting his crying mother. Francine was next, saying a short speech about her sister. She went back to her seat and felt a gentle hand take hold of hers. Kyle had arrived late and was now sitting beside his mother. Francine began to cry again and Kyle comforted her for a second before it was his turn.
"I never really knew Kelly, but I heard stories. When I was ten, I learned I was adopted and by the time I was fourteen, I had weaseled it out of my parents who my real parents were. When I found out that my half-sister was the one I was hearing so much about on the news, I had to come find my real family. It took a while, but I found them and I'm never leaving them again. I know I won't fill the hole left by Kelly's death, but I hope to help ease the pain."
The next person to go up and speak was also the last person to speak. Vivian stood at the podium, looking at the crowd of friends and family. Marsha and Wren were there, Wren holding tightly to Jen's hand so she didn't cry. Kelly's mother and siblings were there, comforting each other in this time of need.
Vivian almost didn't read the notes she held in her hands because she didn't want to inflict more pain on the family, but it was Kelly's last wish.
"Hi," Vivian said with a hoarse throat, "Some of you don't know me. In Kelly's final weeks, we grew very close. You could say that I was her girlfriend, in a way. After all Kelly had been through, she needed the companionship and I was there, ready to listen and to hold her when she needed it.
"She confided in me a few secrets that she didn't share with anyone else in a letter she wrote me before she left that night. I want to read that letter to you now."
Vivian cleared her throat and took a few deep breaths to rid her throat of the lump that was disabling her speech. She took one last deep breath before starting to read the letter.
Dearest, Vivian.
I know I'm hurting you and the other girls who I've grown to consider as friends by doing this, but I can't go on. The dreams you've comforted me through are just the surface of the pain and despair I feel inside my very soul. I can't face my family and loved ones knowing all I've done and all that's happened. I'm not the same girl they knew and it would only ruin their image of me to see me like this before I die. I want them to remember me as I was, not as I am.
Now that I've said it aloud, it feels so real and I'm scared. I don't want to die. I can't think of any other way to get out of this.
Vivian felt the lump returning to her throat as she began to read the next paragraph.
Also, I love you. I want you to know that before I leave you forever. I don't mean to hurt you, I just want you to know that I meant what I said last night. Please do me a favor? Find my family. They'll give you a home and maybe being near them will make you miss me less.
Lastly, tell them I love them.
Ever yours, Kelly.
P.S. One hundred and fifty seven.