drafts & thoughts

marissa

I'm not trying to excuse myself with the words I'm about to write. Because that's all I can do. I'm not excusing myself, but oh, dear, it doesn't feel like my fault. She didn't let me hate her, she never let me insult her, stop her.

I couldn't hate her, I couldn't despise her, I couldn't beat her. Maybe it was because she was too familiar, because she'd always been there, like a background character. She looked so bland next to everyone else. Yet, I couldn't hate her. I couldn't, and that irritated me. I heard her stupid giggles with a frown, with disgust, with despise. But I couldn't walk away, ignore her, hate her in the slightest.

So the only option left to me was to get rid of her. Oh, dear, but you should've heard her gossip, should've seen her dresses, should've been there. You would've done the same, right? When you couldn't hate someone you saw every flaw in. Someone you knew was bad. You would have gone crazy too, wouldn't you?

Dear, I know I may sound insane, but what else could I have done? It was the only way to get rid of her. I didn't feel any sense of accomplishment, no, I just noticed that even her blood was infuriating. She didn't scream, she didn't shout. She was as stupid as that.Oh, but I am writing this on bloody paper. In a cold cell, alone, nostalgic. But anything is better than seeing her blonde hair.


"Do you like it, dear?"Marissa looked at me, horrified. During the last five seconds of her life, she just stared at me.