Dear Jolie,
Does betrayal ever hurt any less? Do you grow numb to your pain, shelf it in the back of your mind, and move on? You were never one to hold grudges, so I hope you’ll forgive me at the end of this.
I killed Max, Jolie. Everything Mom and Dad told you was a lie, but even they didn’t know it was one. He wasn’t hit by a car. That morning when I took him for a walk in the park, I saw Jeff walking his dog, too. He noticed me as I half-dove behind an oak tree by Franklin’s Pond. I looked like a mess, Jo, like you wouldn’t believe. I hadn’t been expecting to run into anyone from school, much less him.
I’ve had a crush on Jeff since forever. So him seeing me in my scuffed jeans and Dad’s Yale Sweatshirt was on par with me singing to the Queen of England in my birthday suit. But he noticed me, Jo, and asked me out. You’re surprised I haven’t told you that, right? I said yes, and right then, Max peed on Jeff’s Reeboks.
I just died. Jeff said it was okay, before I even explained that Max was really old and couldn’t control his bladder. He was so perfect and I was afraid that Max might have ruined it for me. So right when Jeff disappeared around a corner, I kicked our dog as hard as I could in his stomach. He howled, but I just kept kicking. Am I a sick person, Jolie? Or was it a justified burst of anger?
When I came home, I told mom and dad that he was hit by a car and that he didn’t make it. I told them that I buried his body- which I really did do- and I’m sorry I didn’t wait for them, but I wanted them to remember him as the healthy Labrador he was, not a mangled body.
They just ate up my lie and fed it to you and Reese. I still went out on that date with Jeff, but things didn’t work out. Was that my punishment? It didn’t seem enough.
So I began to cut. I sliced my thigh open and stitched it back myself. I started plucking my eyelashes and pulling out my toenails. I was punishing myself. But I messed that up, too, Jo. You nicknamed me no-good-Libby without knowing half the crap I did.
The crack, heroin and LSD Dad found in your car were mine. I’d snuck out one night with all the drugs I bought from the school’s dealer and took your car, planning to drive to the beach and OD under the moonlight. I chickened out of that, too. When I arrived home, I was so stoned that I forgot the drugs in the front seat. Dad found them when he was cleaning your car the next day. He thought it was Stu’s, your boyfriend, and made you break up with him. Stu swore he was clean, but his surfer looks and -I’m sorry for this- pretty low IQ didn’t help his cause.
I should’ve told you, fessed up, grew a pair and just owned up to what I did. But that’s asking too much of me, so you bore the brunt of it all. Do you hate me now, Jo? I hope you don’t tell Reese about all this, too. I want at least one sibling to remember me as their beloved sister.
Yes, this is a suicide letter. I’m gonna off myself, Jolie, and I’ve never been so hyped up my whole life. I killed Max, ruined your love life, gossiped about people in my school, made fun of my teachers, cheated on my boyfriends and I was the reason why Mom and Dad got divorced.
I had a hand in that, too, would you believe it? I’m trying to clear my conscience here, so I’m going to let it all out. I caught Mom cheating and I told Dad. That’s not really my fault, you’d say; it’s hers. But I didn’t have to run my mouth. Maybe then Reese wouldn’t have run away. Maybe then you’d have gone to Yale, fulfilling the family legacy, and gone ahead to be an amazing doctor.
But you’ve spent the past year looking for Reese, waiting for him. You’re nursing our drunken father, and taking care of me. I don’t think I deserve the air I breathe, Jo, goddammit. I’ve betrayed you and our family. But I hope you’ll live past this. You’ll erase me, and move on, because you can.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could bring back Max, take back the drugs and keep my mouth shut. I want to take back so many things, but I can only put an end to all the bad things that I could do in the future.
I just love you so much, sis. I wrote this not out of the kindness of my heart, but I just didn’t want you to blame yourself for my death. Reese will come back. I saw him near the super market last week, but I didn’t tell you. He said he’s managing, but he’s grown so thin. I convinced him to come back.
Go to college, Jolie, cure the sick, get married and have beautiful children, because you deserve it. Forget me.
I’m sorry.
Love,
No good Libby.
