After weeks of mourning her death, her parents decided to finally deal with her life as she left it. They separated everything into boxes: keep, give away, trash, and undecided. They convinced themselves her suicide was plotted and there was a letter hidden somewhere in the depths of her perky, teenage room. "I've read about these kinds of things, after all it is my job. Suicides are usually caused by a bug nipping at the ear. Theres always a letter listing the reasons." But I knew my best friend, she had her future planned for the best. She would never do something like this, and certainly not plan it. "She wouldn't write it down," I said. "She hated writing. And.... she wasn't sick. I know her." "Sweetie," I could tell the words tasted sour in her mouth, "obviously, you didn't know her or you would have known she was going to kill herself." Her face showed a faked sympathy, that made my blood rush with hatred for the woman that was supposed to love my best friend, after all she was her mother. And at that moment, I knew exactly why she despised her parents. "You can go through all the boxes that don't say keep, if you find something you want, take it." She said as she left the room, her heels clonking on the hard wood floor. I got up from my spot on the floor, by the door and made my way to the four huge boxes on the bed. Trash. I dug through it to the bottom, there, was her faded purple diary, designed in repeating powder blue fairies. It was locked, but I knew where the key was. I lay on my back and slid under her bedside table, there was the key, scotch taped to the bottom. Hard breath out as I took the key and slid from under the table. I made my way back to the diary, put the key in the hole, and unlocked it. This is it.