What you know (Hamilton cast)

Thirty-eight

Hi?" She says, opening the door. Pippa, Carleigh, Anthony, and I stand at her door. She has on a black hoodie and jeans. They're baggy in her and she drowns in her hoodie, pale, fragile, and red eyed.

"Hi." I struggle not to squeeze her until her brain pops out. I think we all do.

"Wanna come in?" She says, stepping aside after none of us say anything else. We thank her and enter. It looks the same, but only one of the two ceiling lights is on. She rubs her eyes, approaching the counter after us.

I've only heard anything about her from Carleigh. She said that she looked sick, but acted like her old self.

"Do you have any heat?" She shrugs.

"It'll start getting warm out. Eventually." She mumbles the last part. "Want anything to drink? I only have tap water and a bottle of coke but still."

"No thanks." We mumble.

"Any reason that you all came." She says, laughing. She's so frail that I can't believe it. My chest feels heavy and as much as I want to look away, my eyes are stuck on her dangerously thin frame.

"I'm your dad. And these are your friends." To me, the words mean a lot. But it seems to her, they're empty.

"I have to be at the studio soon so I'm leaving in like five. Sorry. You can stay if you want. I don't really care, but I have to go."
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"Shit." I say. I had come to check up on Kelsey after she didn't send her usual home okay text at the end of the day. Knowing she would be up and unable to sleep, I arrived here, not caring that I could have been mugged. I don't know what got into me, but I'm glad it did because I used a spare key and unlocked it, having to squeeze my hand in the crack it the door to unlock the other one and rushed in to where the only light had been coming from. The bathroom.

The sink is full of water and blood, pill bottles next to the sink, as well as a bottle of vodka. She's dressed in shorts and a sports bra. Her tiny body and soft face resemble that of a child's. Bruises everywhere. Cuts on her legs, slits on her wrist, a bloody knife in the non slit hand. The tile has bloody water on it. She must have slit it in the sink. I dial 911, shaking her body. It all feels so hopeless. She looks and feels so dead.

This was not impulsive. She planned this long ago. She convinced us she was happy, quit her job, withdrew herself, and then killed herself. I want to be mad but I can't. Not at her. The feeling resembles one that I would have if god forbid I ever kneeled by Sebastian's cold body. She's my daughter. My daughter is cold and limp in my arms. My heart aches and my anger is only at those who did this to her. He who destroyed her body and mind to where she decided to destroy herself.

A glance at her wrist makes my want to scream. A glance at her stomach makes me want to punch someone. A glance at her face makes me want to cry.

How could a world be so cruel to do this to a person? How could we be so dumb to think that someone like her, could be truly happy? Why does it feel like there was a time that she was? And I was there.
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A/N- I feel bad for my character because I toss her around according to my mood (since writing is my therapy) and it's kinda like, here, let's make another bad thing happen to you😂

Sorry kelsey😁