Her Name Was Alice

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short story about a girl named Alice Kaplan and the effects of her committing suicide...

Submitted: September 11, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 11, 2012



Her name was Alice. Alice Kaplan and she was 14 years old. She lived in a small town, where everyone knew everyone. And there were no secrets; at least that’s what everyone thought. Some people were good at keeping secrets, they could smile and laugh and seem happy but underneath it all be extremely messed up. Alice was one of those people, she didn’t have many friends and her family never really paid that much attention to her. She never did that well in school and was made fun of a lot. Most nights, when she’d get home after a tough day of school she’d go straight to her room, her parents wouldn’t notice that she skipped dinner, and cut. Alice found her escape through putting a blade to her wrists. She’d watch in fascination at the blood running down her arms and dripping onto the hard tile floor. No one questioned why she always wore a sweater, even in the dead of summer. One day after being called a filthy bitch by her only so-called friend, she ran all the way home, looking forward to the bite of the blade. When she walked through the front door of her house and heard the empty rooms echo silently back at her; Alice decided that she couldn’t take it anymore.  She dropped her bags right there, in front of the door and slowly walked up the stairs. She ran her hand over the doorknob of her room and eased the door open. She grabbed her knife, cut one last time and then hung herself. Her blood dripped down her limp arms and stained the white carpet. The chair she had used to step of off was laying one the floor and next to the chair was a note. A note that Alice had decided to write, right before she stepped off the chair, it read: “I just couldn’t”.

Alice thought that no one had cared. But she had been wrong; when her mother got home from work and saw her baby girl, who had grown so terribly distant over the years, hanging lifeless from a rope she cried. She cried so hard that when she called Alice’s father, she had to say it seven times before he understood. But when he did he went deadly silent, he thought it was his entire fault for not paying as much attention to her as he should have. Alice’s mom thought it was her fault, for not being there for her.  

When the news spread around school that Alice Kaplan had committed suicide, not many knew who she was. A few did, including the friend who had been mean to her the day she died, the boy who had accidently hit her with his locker the day before and didn’t say sorry, and a boy who Alice had never talked to. The friend that it her fault, for being so thoughtless and mean, the boy thought it his fault for not apologizing and then there was the boy Alice had never talked to, who had secretly had a crush on her, and felt it his fault, though he knew it couldn’t be.

Alice though no one had cared.  But she had been wrong, over the years her parents never forgave themselves for not being there for her. Her friend had gone into a deep depression and went to therapy every Saturday. The boy who had hit her with the locker stopped talking to people and dropped out of high school. And the boy had had a crush on her blamed himself for her death and started smoking dope.

Not knowing it, Alice had changed the lives of all of these people. To her, she had just been ending her life, she thought no one would notice or even care. But she had been wrong. People cared.

© Copyright 2018 BreeHerrera. All rights reserved.

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