Love, Brit.

By Adonia Meriyam Daniel

Days after Brit Pete took her own life, a candlelight vigil was held by her school to celebrate her life and to mourn the loss of a beautiful soul.

Brit was raised in Newport, Orange County. The pristine white sands, the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, the fragrant Mimosa’s and Mr. Carter’s apple pie were the early memories Brit had of this quaint coastal town. She was 7 when her dad died due to a cardiac arrest. It was whilst her mom, Liz, was expecting their second child, Oliver.

After the sudden demise of her little angel Brit, Liz was devastated, overwhelmed and above all, puzzled. With the little ounce of strength she had left in her, she picked herself up and left for the vigil with Oliver.

At the vigil, hundreds of students, teachers and relatives came to show their support to the bereaving family. Many heartfelt eulogies poured out. These words had managed to capture the character, spirit and legacy of Brit. Countless left teary eyed and a few, heavy hearted.

After the candlelight vigil, Liz and Oliver drove back home. She tucked him in bed and kissed goodnight. As she made her way towards the door, Oliver asked, “Mommy, when is Brit coming back home?” She had promised herself she’d never cry in front of her kids but Oliver’s curiosity led her to a meltdown. She could not hold it in any longer. She burst out into tears and said “She’s in our midst, honey. Now, sleep tight. I love you.”

She shut the door behind her, sat down on the stairs, buried her face into her hands and wept uncontrollably. She had been numb all the while but she suddenly came to the realization that her little baby no longer lived. Being a single mom, she was Brit’s pillar of support and Brit was her strength and weakness. The news of her daughter’s death was really hard on her but Liz stood strong, until now.

She missed her smile. She missed her beautiful ocean eyes that she acquired from her dad. She missed her bouncy, blonde locks. Every line, curve, and angle of her face had worked seamlessly together to create something more beautiful than the sum of its parts.

After Brit’s passing, Liz hadn’t been to her room. She wanted Brit’s room to remain just the way it was. But now, Liz paced towards her room. As she opened the door to Brit’s room, her eyes welled up. Her room was painted a pastel yellow, accessorised with beige and rose gold décor.

Liz walked toward her drawer. She picked up Brit’s favourite clothing; a ruffled, black floral dress. The smell evoked memories of a cheerful and witty 13 year old who had her whole life ahead of her.

She held Brit’s dress closer to her and wailed. As tears rolled down in an endless stream, she noticed an envelope. It was addressed as ‘To Mom’. She tore the envelope open and found a letter.

Dear Mom,

If you’ve found this letter, I’m very sorry for what I’ve done. I couldn’t endure the pain any longer. Don’t EVER think you were the reason. I never wanted die but I had to save myself from the pain. You’ve always toiled so hard to sustain our little family and I’m so grateful to have you in my life. You’ve always been there for me whenever I needed you. Thank you, mom. I wish I could hug you one last time. Once again, I’m sorry mom. I’ll miss you so much. Tell Oliver that I love him and that I’ll always be watching over him. I can’t wait for the day to meet you both again. I’ll be waiting at heaven’s gates. Bye for now.

Love,

Brit

Liz couldn’t believe what she had just read. She read and re-read the same letter over and over again. She could feel chills running down her spine and her veins gushing with blood of a thousand rivers. Her head ached and her heart throbbed faster than light. She felt the anger pulsate within her.

The very next day, she drove to Brit’s school where she was met by her principle, Mr. Cole. Liz was balling her eyes out as they discussed the letter and Mr. Cole felt sympathy for the grieving mother. He felt an immense sense of solicitude and wanted to get to the bottom of it. He called Brit’s best friend, Eva, to his office.

When Eva was called by the principle, she knew exactly why. On seeing Brit’s mom in Mr. Cole’s office, she handed Brit’s diary and with a weak snivel said, “You’ll find the answers you’re seeking in here, Mrs. Pete. I found this in my bag on the night after the vigil.”

Eva and Brit had been friends for 9 years. They had met at pre-school and were inseparable ever since. They used to spend summers together at the beach and occasionally would have sleep overs, where they watched chick flicks and danced to their favourite songs. They were just like any other ordinary teenage girl of their age.

On one such sleepover, Brit had made an account on a social media app where she began to post pictures of herself. She had acquainted herself with many kids from different schools. She would constantly talk to people who she had never met before and had shared innumerable information about her private life. Liz and Eva were unaware of Brit’s account.

Subsequently, on a fine Sunday morning, while scrolling through her feed, Brit encountered vile pictures of her face morphed into graphic images. She felt her world crumbling apart right before her eyes. Minutes after, she received a text from a friend she had met online who she thought was of 16 years. But little did Brit know that she had been sharing information and pictures of herself to a 39 year old man.

He made objectionable comments and demanded to meet her after school or else stated he would sent them to all her friends. Brit knew she couldn’t tell her mom or Eva of what was happening and so, decided to take matters into her own hands.

On Monday, a week after her pictures went viral, Brit left her diary in Eva’s bag while she was at school, hours before she took her life. She knew this was the only way she could let the world know why she did what she did. She wished no one would ever go through what she’s been and hoped her story could shed light on cyberbullying and bring change in the country’s cyber laws, possibly saving innocent lives from the clutches of cyber bullies.

By Adonia Meriyam Daniel