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It only took one for my heart to sink to my feet.
In 2014, Ella Caine committed suicide. She slit her wrists and then laid in the bathtub. Her brother, Micah, found her in time and took her to the hospital. However, as soon as she could, she sneaked to the rooftop of the hospital and jumped into her death.
All she left behind were diary entries.
I skimmed through the next couple of articles, but didn’t find anything relevant to the cause of her death. Prior to her first suicide attempt, she was described as a kind, happy girl. She was in the debate team, with the best grades in her school. The spring when she took her life was when she got accepted into an Ivy League school.
She was only seventeen years old. A teenager, a child.
Although I didn’t know her, my heart ached for her. She didn’t get to live, at all. Her life ended before it could truly begin, and someone with a happy life like hers wouldn’t just decide to die. Given the first letter I’d read, I realized that someone must’ve hurt her to the point of no return.
I swallowed harshly and continued.
My eyes darted through the papers until I read every single one. All the printed web articles, and the ones from the newspapers. The only thing I didn’t touch were her letters. As soon as I found out why she did what she did, I couldn’t bring myself to pry into her life further.
One night, just before the final exams took place, Ella was invited to a birthday party.
She wasn’t the kind of person to stay out late, but with a little push from her family, she decided to go to one party before her high school life finished. The party turned sour really quickly, as older kids, a lot of them that attended universities, decided to crash.
Ella’s school life was good — but not great, by any means. She was bullied by a group of popular kids, and often seen as the outcast, mainly because she wasn’t a pushover. She didn’t want to do their assignments, homework, or help them cheat.
She might’ve helped them had they not been treating her like shit.
And that night, after the party, although she was sober, she walked home. It was a twenty-minute walk, and it was warm, so she didn’t bother calling anyone to pick her up since it was getting late.
All of those motherfuckers that bullied her were following her home.
I almost threw up at the next part of the article. They were written by a couple of Ella’s friends, and since this incident was kept hush-hush, I assumed the website was taken down as a whole soon after.
They raped her.
Eight of them raped her.
Not only did they violate her in the most disgusting way they could, they also recorded it. They laughed and called her a whore while she was begging them to let her go. She was crying, and at some point, even threw up. They didn’t stop there.
By morning, they uploaded it to multiple porn sites.
People of the small city they lived in petitioned for the video to be taken down, but it was too late. A lot of people had seen it, and Ella hated herself. For a long time, she blamed herself. She shut everyone out, aside from two friends — the ones that told her story.
Eight monsters were never prosecuted.
They had video evidence, and their faces were seen — but none of that mattered when their parents had a lot of wealth. The community was rather small, and it wasn’t difficult for the parents to buy the silence of the judge.
Those eight bastards ended up switching schools, but Ella’s life was over. Therapy didn’t help, because she didn’t want to be helped. All she wanted was justice, and when the case was marked as closed, without any proper investigation and prosecution, she fell into deeper despair.
She killed herself because she couldn’t handle the pain.
I skimmed through the rest of the papers, and as soon as I found the names of the people who were the reason Ella’s life was taken away from her, my eyes widened.
All of them were Micah’s victims.
And the extended family of those people.
He got revenge for his sister. He tortured, mutilated, and killed every single person that hurt his sister. He was aware that nothing he would do would bring her back, so he made sure they would suffer immensely before they died. And the last face they saw before dying was his, and he was probably grinning in their faces.
I hadn’t realized that I started crying.
Tears fell down my cheek, rolling down my chin and landing on the paper in my hands. I felt sorrow, pain, and so much compassion for Ella. She didn’t deserve this. No one did. She deserved to live her life, to enjoy her youth, to settle down and do whatever she wished.
