Short mystery story
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They took her away quickly, ripping her away from her current life, into one they hadn't prepared her for. Her parents ran her off so fast, without warning. Suddenly she was gone, out of my life forever. It's been almost two years since.

I urged her to call me, to send me a letter, an email. I sent letters to where she told me she lived, once a week. I tried email once, but it was returned to me, saying that the address was wrong. So I returned to letters. Four months later, I began to give up hope, deciding I'd send just one more letter. I offered to hang his coat up for him. As I put it on the hanger, I saw my letter. I took it out and looked it over, to be sure.

I was confused but didn't say anything. I wanted to know why he had my letter. The next day I sent an extra one. Sure enough, I found it in my father's coat pocket the next day. I snuck into his room, guilt flooding through me. In his closet was a shoe box, my name scrawled in pen on the top. I knelt down and opened it, biting my lip.

Setting the cover aside, I saw the box was full of my letters. I counted them. 18 envelopes, including today's fake one. I closed the box and went to the kitchen where Mom and Dad were.

They dodged each question, bringing up dinner, school, or my school's Spring Break. I stopped them, setting my jaw. I told them that I wanted to talk to her, tell her that I missed her. The request was met with an uncomfortable glance between them, then a shaken head.

I ran back to my room in tears. What good would come of stopping me from talking to my best, my only friend? She wasn't a bad influence. She wasn't a bully.

I sat on the floor of my closet, ripping the lid off of a storage box, and removing the hidden bag we had stored there years ago. I hadn't opened it before, afraid of the hurt that would overwhelm me. Right now, though, I needed my friend. This was the next best thing.

I opened the bag buried inside and saw all our letters from before she moved, all of our 'best friend' necklaces, all the little presents and stupid doodles we had given each other and dumped it out on my bed. Sifting through the letters, one immediately stuck out. A deep red envelope. There were other colors we'd used, but no red ones. She hated the color red, so it was banned.

The envelope was still sealed. A little heart was drawn over the flap that opened it. It made my own heart lurch to see it. She loved drawing hearts. Her notebook was covered in little doodles similar to that one. I turned it over. My name, in big cursive, was written on the top. The 'L' at the beginning had her familiar swirl that had made me wipe away more tears.

I smiled sadly at it. I then hesitated before opening it. I had wondered then why it was in red if it was maybe a letter that had gotten lost, it wasn't recent. But she never used red, not before she left.

It must be recent, right before she moved, probably. I tore it open. Little folded pieces of notebook paper tumbled out.

I took the folded piece marked, #1. The date was December 8th. The day she left. I swallowed slowly. My eyes glimpsed over the note. I hoped it would be nice, encouraging though I knew how depressed she was when they left, right before her birthday. As I read on, I realized something was very wrong.

Something more than her mental health was tearing at her. She was rambling on like she was terrified. Her writing, messy and cluttered made my heart skip a beat. My hands shook as I held the letter.

I had no idea it had gotten so bad.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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