Dear Isabella,
You shoved me in a locker and told me I would pay for what I did and that I should kill myself. Hmm, killing myself. That would stop my pain. The outside pain of bruises and cuts, and the inside pain in my heart. It's not like I have anything to lose. My dad is like 65, I don't know where my mom is, no siblings, no friends. Just pain and bad people. Okay Isabella, you win. I'll leave you alone.
Bye, Andrea
