Stacey Bendet plays Erika

"If you want to, I can save you, I can take you away from here, So lonely inside, So busy out there, And all you wanted, was somebody who cares." All You Wanted ~ Michelle Branch

You were the perfect girl, Erika. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect boyfriend. I, among many others, did envy you sometimes. Though perfection is deadly, sometimes, we forget perfection's true colors and wish to be perfect.

But Erika, this letter to you is not about perfection. It's more about you.

So, Little Miss Perfect, while your motto was to stay perfect, mine was to fake a smile, trying to make me happy.

After the whole thing with Ryan and Quinn, it made me feel like I was the one injuring Quinn, not Ryan. Your situation did not help mine any better.

You waved your ever perfect life in my face, while I walked around, barely able to fake a smile, with guilt ruining over again and again. It added onto my burden on pain.

For this thought, I believe I was in the wrong.

Colette and Jasmine, you guys were better off in the dark, so don't feel bad.

I am selfish, I admit that. Suicide is a selfish thing.

Erika, you were one of the people who I think could have saved me from death.

Erika, have you ever been down at the tracks of our subway, drunk off your ass with your friends?

Of course you have. I was there hoping I could find some peace away from people, away from the burden with my vodka.

I was taking small sips of the alcohol and you were there, with your perfect friends, high and drunk off your ass.

You knew my name.

"Natalie, come join us!" You yelled at the abandoned station. Your friends howled with laughter and I hesitantly joined them.

Of course, Erika, you had no idea what happened, hence a reason why I'm writing you this letter.

Once the giggled settled down, your friend Reagan began, "None of us will remember this day, er night." The giggled rose again, and ceased. I didn't want to tell Reagan that I would remember, because that was what my brain tended to do. It remembered the dark and depressing things, but forgot the happier ones.

"The circle of Truths." Reagan began, sounding sober. One look at her eyes made me wonder if this was her drunk or high self.

"I kissed your boyfriend." Hayze had said, on the right of Reagan.

"I so fucking hate Reagan, Erika and Tiffanee!" A girl who I knew as Mony yelled.

This went on and on until it reached me. When I didn't shout out anything, everybody turned to look, "Well?" Tiffanee had demanded, her words slurring slightly.

I took a swig of vodka, "I miss Marisol." I shouted, my voice echoing the abandoned station. Of course, I had to choke down the sob as I was not drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk.

The shouting reached you, beloved Erika, and you yelled out, "I hate my family. I hate my friends, I hate all you people and I want to kill myself."

Jennica on your other side continued as I stared at your drunken, desperate state. "Guess we have something in common," I muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

You aren't dead, but I am dear Erika.

After everybody stumbled home, only you and I were left and I offered you the rest of my vodka.

"Why do you want to die so badly?" I asked as you took a drunken swig.

"My family doesn't care about me. My boyfriend cheats on me with college girls, even though I love him, everybody thinks I'm so damn perfect and just wanted to bemyfriend because I'm so perfect." You slurred, resting your head on my shoulder.

I took back the half empty bottle and chucked it at the wall.

The glass shattered, making you flinch, "Are you abused?" I asked quietly watching her reaction.

You were getting sleepy now, "Dad likes a good punch every now and then. Never somethin more. N'one ever cares, na even my ma." You said, full on sleeping.

I carried you into a hotel for a room I paid for overnight and left a note.

If you remembered, it read :

I do know you hate everybody and want to die, but remember, I care. Don't you dare die on me, Erika. Stay strong and live on.

-NP

Maybe you were saved while I wasn't. I don't hold any hard feelings against me. You, Erika, made me realize that even perfection has it's own cracks.

Until We Meet Again,

Natalie Palmer