Dear whoever finds this,

Okay so, if you picked up this bottle you have either been really unlucky or honestly kind of disgusting (I mean really, do you know where this thing has been?).  I know, a message in a bottle--how cliche blah-blah, but if you think about it, the idea of writing all your secrets down in an anonymous letter and throwing them in the ocean is kind of beautiful; and after all that I’ve been through, writing this is the only way to truly express my emotions. Four years ago, on August 22, 2011, I graduated High School at the top of my class.  My parents were so proud that they decided to give me the car and get rid of my curfew for the night, which for my parents was a HUGE amount of freedom.  I decided to go out partying with my two best friends at some guy’s house who lived two hours away.  I had never even tried alcohol before so to say I went overboard would be an understatement.  Even then, out of all my friends I was the most sober, and it was three o’clock in the morning so we had to get home soon.  Without thinking I got behind the wheel and drove about ten miles, that’s all I remember other than waking up in the hospital with not only a pounding hangover, but no feeling in my right leg.  Eventually when I sat up I remembered what had happened, what I had done, and immediately passed out again.  The next time I opened my eyes, I heard the sound of my mother sobbing.  My first thought was, “Am I dead?”.  I strained my ears to listen to the conversation between my mom and the doctor and discovered that my mom was not crying for my death, but the one of my friend.
It should have been me, I know it should have because Rachel had her whole life ahead of her.  She had a boyfriend who was going to propose before college and a little brother she had to take care of because her mom left when she was eight.  She had a scholarship to Delaware State and was going to be a nursing major.  The worst part is, I can’t even pay for what I did.  My parents gave money to Rachel’s family so they wouldn’t press charges.  They kept it as quiet as possible so that their precious spotless image wouldn’t be destroyed. The official police report states that Rachel was driving the car and that she crashed it.  Don’t you think it’s ironic how money can distort the truth?  I am the culprit, the murderer. My life is over.  All I can think about is Rachel.  Everytime I see her little brother in the grocery store he starts to cry.  I can’t even look at myself in the mirror because all I see is a monster.  All I can think when I wake up everyday is What Have I Done. 

Now at this point you probably hate me. I hope you do, I want you to hate me because I hate me too.  And the reason I wrote this letter?  it’s to tell someone, for someone to share the hatred I do for myself because it makes getting through the day so much easier to know that someone in the world knows that I am not innocent.  You are the only other person in the entire universe that knows what happened.  Do you have the chills yet?  Heres another thought--maybe Rachel is reading this letter right over your shoulder- haunting you just like she haunts every single thing I will ever do.