(A/N: I no Own)

"She hung herself you know," Helga said. "In the basement,"

I couldn't believe what she had just said to me.

Two months had passed, and the two of us were sitting on the dock, eating corn dogs.

"Do you know why?" I asked. I couldn't help it.

"Because no one understood what she was going through in life. So she showed them through death," Helga looked down at the water.

I had learned that Olga's death had affected Helga more than anyone had thought. It had changed her. Aged her. She had lost the childhood innocence in her eyes. It was replaced with a wisdom I rarely saw even in old people. It was like Helga had found out something that no one else in the world knew. I wanted to know. But knew I never would . . .

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Helga made her first attempt eight months later. She downed sleeping pills.

I hadn't spoken to her for a few weeks. Lila and Phoebe were shocked. That day she had seemed really happy. She was bouncing around, eyeing up guys, commenting on clothes and things she wanted to get. No one could understand it.

Bob and Miriam took her out of school.

No one ever heard from her after that. Apparently she was sent to a private all-girls school.

When she did finally return home, she didn't come out often. Occasionally we would see her in town, but she was always with her mother or father. As far as we know, they never let her out of their sight. That was why we were all so shocked when Phoebe, Lila and I each received a letter from her. It was inviting us to come over. Gerald came along with Phoebe naturally.

We all went together. Bob and Miriam weren't home, which was odd. The door was unlocked. There was an envelope with our names on it. Phoebe picked it up and opened it, then silently read it. Then dropped it. She raced up the stairs, Gerald right behind her. Then we heard Phoebe scream. I read the letter over Lila's shoulder.

'Hey, guys,

Olga is meeting me there so I'll be fine.

Lots of love,

Helga.'

Gerald came running down the stairs and grabbed the phone.

"We need an ambulance! Our friend is dead or something!" he yelled. He gave the address. Then argued with the woman on the other side.

Lila and I went upstairs. Phoebe was sitting on the floor, staring into the bathroom. Lila went to her, I entered the bathroom.

Water had spilled over the edge of the tub, a slim white arm hung over, and long, dark blonde hair was hanging over the rim. I moved in further.

I don't remember what happened after that, but I do remember a paramedic pulling me away from her. I had her in my arms and was talking to her. Telling her how angry I was with her, asking her how she could do that to herself. Do this to Phoebe and Lila, and me, and Gerald. To her family. That was when I realised something. Today was the 17th. Exactly one year after her sister.

"No one understood what she was going through in life. So she showed them through death," he heard her saying.

Hanging. Sleeping pills. Drowning. I think I understood it now . . .

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Helga was buried next to Olga. I took Helga's old notebooks, the pink ones with poetry filled with love poems dedicated to me. In one I found a letter from Olga addressed to her.

'Dearest baby sister Helga,

It's time. I am going through with the plan. I am suffocating and no one listens. No one seems to understand what I feel. I will make them listen. I will let them know what they have been doing to me. What they have done to you.

Love,

Olga'

That was all that was there. There was another, different books. Olga was printed on the velvet cover. I opened it and read the life Olga had led.

I read through Helga's. I understood her now.

Unfortunately it was now too late.

Too late to tell her that…

I loved her too…