Cross My Heart

Chapter Three

CROSS MY HEART: CHAPTER THREE

I knew very well what Roxanne was capable of. I knew that she hated my guts for no apparent reason. I knew that she was destined to ruin my life. I don't want to sound like one of those teenagers that obsesses over every little thing. You know, the one's with the parents that make them do the dishes, and they're suddenly ruining their daughter's life. No, Roxanne, slowly but surely, is literally ruining my life. Bit by crumbiling bit.

I took a deep breathe and sat down on my computer chair. I didn't care right now that it was going to get wet from Adam and I's little dip in the water. I moved the mouse icon towards the email, and I had to force myself to click on it. I didn't need to read the title again. I scrolled down to where the email actually started. I had to scroll for quite a while because apparently Roxanne had forwarded this message to the entire school. When I finally reached the beginning of the email, I reminded myself that Roxanne knew crap. She was a stupid, ungrateful, filthy rich bitch that didn't know the difference between an apple and an orange.

Who was I kidding?

The email went a little something like this:

What do you call a cross-eyed, pregnant duck with lice?...DEVYN MILLER!

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Orange.

Orange what?

Orange you're glad you're not DEVYN MILLER!?!?!

Ladies and Gentlemen, 

I regret to inform you that our beloved, and dear friend, Devyn Miller, is not who we all thought she was. In fact, Devyn Miller is the furthest thing from the little perfect princess she tries to play. She recently contracted herpes from an unknown person in the twelvth grade. It may not be her fault, though, seeing as her mother walked out on her when she was just a baby; she ran off with a sleezy man she had met at the stripper place. What a sad, sad, shame. In addition, a reliable source has told me that she recently bought fifteen grams of crack cocaine, which we all know is very, very illegal. We can only hope that Devyn Miller will come about her senses soon, but until then, she will go on living the life of the sleezy, fugly, whore who just doesn't know when to say no. Let us all pray for her, because she desperatley needs all the prayers we she can get.

                                                                                                                                                xoxo Roxy

P.S: Remember, ugliness is extremley contagious, so keep your distance from this unruly bitch.

I picture I am underwater, and my last breathe has just escaped me. I am struggiling to come to the surface. I am punching and kicking the water, but there is something that is pushing me down. I try and try to speak, but all that comes out are lifeless bubbles. I open my eyes to see who has decided this fate for me, but I can not see anything. As I close my eyes and loosen my struggle, I start sinking further and further down into the never ending pit of black. The last thing I hear is the unmistakable laugh of Roxanne, and the bursting of my own lungs. I am dead.

I feel like someone has just ripped out my heart. All I want to know, is why? Why does she have to be so mean, and cruel? Why can't she just leave me alone? Why, why, why? I force myself to move from the chair to the washroom. I silently open and close the door; I lock it behind me. I don't give a second glance to the computer screen, which looks like it is laughing at me too. I stand in front of the mirror and take a long look at myself. I know that Roxanne makes a living off of me, and that all of the things she said are not true, especially not the part about my mother.