Pen-Pals

Dear Karlie

Karlie,

It's been two weeks since I got your letter- which was on time like ever. You've had you're dance recital and one amazingly as far as I'm aware. I, on the other hand, am behind and not doing so well.

It happened again- except it went further. They stuck stuff on me and took pictures, posting them on Instagram. The whole school knows what a slut I am.

And that's my new name. Slut. That's what I get called on a daily basis by everyone.

It happened when I why for a walk to clear my head. A group- ten or twenty of them- snatched me and took me down an alley which was filthy, dragging me and calling me stuff I don't want to repeat. I cried out but they stuck a gag on me, I could barely breathe, let alone talk. Then they took my normal clothes and replaced them with this rag of a thing. It was practically see through and didn't cover my behind when I bent over.

That's only the beginning though.

The boys were doing things.,. Y'know. And then I had to... Y'know. They took pictures of me so now all you have to do is look the hashtag #taylorisaslut up and you'll find me. I'm doing things I never thought I'd do.

I'm a disgrace.

I hate myself,

I want to die.

I have nothing anymore.

I've asked to meet you though and my parents said yes. Just get your mum to email mine and then we'll sort it. I'm living for you Karls.

Your friend
Taylor,