Miley and I, we were two very different people, but somehow we ended up being the best of friends. Although sometimes it felt as if it was just me in our friendship. She was difficult to get to know, yet by the end of our three-month friendship, she knew everything about me. When we met around 10th grade, I had recently moved to the school so I didn’t know anyone. She was the first person to talk to me. Miley seemed like an open book but was in fact the opposite.
We talked here and there but I think our friendship really started around the time her father died. He played a very important role in her life so losing him was like losing a part of herself. I remember she called me that night telling me in between sobs what happened. I think this was the first time that she really opened herself up to me. To be quite honest, I felt almost honored. I was not her only friend, not even her closest friend at the time, yet I was the only person she decided to tell. To this day, I still wonder why she never told anyone but me.
Miley was so bubbly when we met, but after her father’s death she changed a lot. She no longer smiled all the time, and she started skipping school. I would ask her every day where she had been, but there was never an answer. I found out she would skip class to get high with a couple of other kids when I saw her in the main office. She got caught. That afternoon I asked her the same question as usual.
Except, this time she answered. She told me to back off and that she was getting really tired of everyone asking if she was okay. I don’t recall what happened next, I just know that after her little rant she disappeared for about two weeks. I knew this wasn’t the first time she decided to go off the radar; Miley loved just leaving everything behind to go discover new places. But this time I felt that she wasn’t having one of her adventures. I called her until her voicemail was full, constantly messaging her on every social media app she had, wondering where in the world she was and most importantly, was she okay?
By this time, our three-month friendship was almost coming to an end. I didn’t know I would lose her in a week’s time. After endless calls and messages, Miley finally responded. I clearly remember that day. How could I not? It was the first of March, 3:48 pm. I was in the middle of tutoring when she called, so she left a voicemail. She began by telling me how much she appreciated getting to know me, and she thanked me for still putting up with her even though she was a very “difficult and discreet” person.
I thought that was her only message, to say thanks for being her friend, but then she continued, explaining that she was not able to handle life anymore. She didn’t know how. “I want to put a stop to everything. No, I want to put a stop on time. Make it go back to when my father was still alive and tell him what I always meant to say but never got around to. But I can’t. He is already dead and in another world, so there’s only one other way to find him and tell him that I love him.”
I had never heard Miley speak with such gravity before. When her words finally sunk in, I realized I had to stop her from attempting whatever she was about to do, but how? I had no idea where she was. And then it hit me. If she was being serious about this, she would be where her father was last.
I never got around to telling you how or where Miley’s father died, and that’s because I don’t know much. From what Miley told me, he went out for a jog, like he did every morning, but this time ran across the Brooklyn Bridge instead of his usual route. Like most people, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A robber was looting everyone on the bridge and we don’t know exactly what happened between her dad and the thief, but he ended up with two bullets in his chest. Not only was she fatherless, but she was now an orphan. Her mother died of lung cancer when she was five. Her father was everything she had left and he had been taken away from her.
I left tutoring in such a hurry that I didn’t even care to explain why I had to leave. My usual transportation for school was the public bus and there was no way I could get to the bridge in time--if Miley was even there. Walking, it was about twenty minutes from the bridge so I figured that running would take about ten. I was so relieved that I had followed my instincts when I reached the bridge and saw Miley. I called out for her and told her to stop and think about what she was about to do. She didn’t care. She wanted to be with her father. I tried running to her as fast as my feet could take me, but it was too late. She stepped onto the edge of the bridge and didn’t hesitate before jumping.
The pain I experienced witnessing my best friend die reached a whole new level for me. At the time, I didn’t get why she wasn’t strong enough, why she couldn’t hold on just a bit longer, but now I truly understand. It’s not something you can live with, or if you can, well, then you’re beyond strong. Or maybe I could have lived with the pain, but I was just too weak. Maybe if I had talked about it to a professional, something could’ve been done. But these are just maybes. Either way, when you read this letter, it will be too late. My intention is not to make you feel what I felt after Miley died. No, I’m doing this for me. (Oh, and if you’ve gotten this far, please know I didn’t address this letter because I don’t know whose hands it will end up in. It may be my parents, the NYPD, or god knows who. So whoever you are, I thank you for taking the time to read this letter and I hope you’re strong enough to face what is yet to come.)
Yours Truly,
Jackeline Dallas
I had never heard Miley speak with such gravity before. When her words finally sunk in, I realized I had to stop her from attempting whatever she was about to do, but how? I had no idea where she was. And then it hit me. If she was being serious about this, she would be where her father was last.
I never got around to telling you how or where Miley’s father died, and that’s because I don’t know much. From what Miley told me, he went out for a jog, like he did every morning, but this time ran across the Brooklyn Bridge instead of his usual route. Like most people, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A robber was looting everyone on the bridge and we don’t know exactly what happened between her dad and the thief, but he ended up with two bullets in his chest. Not only was she fatherless, but she was now an orphan. Her mother died of lung cancer when she was five. Her father was everything she had left and he had been taken away from her.
I left tutoring in such a hurry that I didn’t even care to explain why I had to leave. My usual transportation for school was the public bus and there was no way I could get to the bridge in time--if Miley was even there. Walking, it was about twenty minutes from the bridge so I figured that running would take about ten. I was so relieved that I had followed my instincts when I reached the bridge and saw Miley. I called out for her and told her to stop and think about what she was about to do. She didn’t care. She wanted to be with her father. I tried running to her as fast as my feet could take me, but it was too late. She stepped onto the edge of the bridge and didn’t hesitate before jumping.
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