Poison Letters

Chapter 2

Dear you,

Hi again! I missed you. I really did.

In the past, I had a couple of nice friends. Like you. You're my friend.

They were friends I could trust. Ones who I could laugh with, share my secrets and could stare at a wall with.

They were 3 to be exact.

These girls, I believed they were my rarity. A gift from the heavens, I guess. Something to take my mind off of... Things.

I was wrong.

What would you do if one of your closest friends went missing? Probably worry. Maybe you'd be emotionally unstable. You might even skip school for a couple of days to recollect.

Ok. What would you do if that same friend came back. They found her finally. They found someone you care for. Someone you love. Someone dear to you. Someone you had so many memories with it flabbergasted you. Well, imagine she came back dead.

She was dead.

I wasn't shocked, to be honest. In a way I expected it. In a sick twisted way I saw it coming.

You might be wondering, "well, what did she do?" I laughed. I laughed when they told me. I laughed when I was walking to her. I laughed when I saw her dead.

Not moving. Not breathing.

Her parents shouted at me. My friends left me, but I kept laughing.

Some people might think I was laughing because I remembered 'the good 'ol times'. That's not true. I laughed because it was funny. She died. It was hilarious actually. I just couldn't hold myself back.

Her body wasn't moving. Her eyelids weren't flickering. Her lips sealed closed. Her hair dead. Her hands secured beside her. It was more like a force was pushing her down, stopping her from moving. It was paralyzing her body. It was so funny.

Moving on.

A freak.

Now, that's a name I grew to love. It was more like a crown than a hurtful word. I used to despise it as a child, but then it grew on me. Cute.

People say I lack human emotion. They say I'm a bad person. They say I'm going to burn in hell. They also suggest that I should kill myself. They even gave me suggestions about how to do it. Like slitting my wrists, or jumping off of a bridge, or throwing myself in front of a train, and many more.

I'm not suicidal. I don't wish to end my life. I don't wish to play with something so precious in a lighthearted way.

I don't want to die.

I'm already dead though.

Walking into school, I always look behind me. Mostly because I know someone might want to pull something on me. It happened in the past. Countless times.

While I was walking down the hall, I remembered Doll. My dead friend. Her real name is Dawn. I call her Doll because her innocence and beauty remind me of a small doll I used to have as a child. I find it cute.

I walked past Doll's locker and saw some candles and pictures of herself. They were sprawled over the floor and teddy bears were aligned around the 'premises' of the everything. Like little guards. Adorable.

The school allowed 2 days of mourning for everyone, afterwards they said they'll pick everything up and throw it away since it wasn't appropriate.

Doll's death was a mystery. It wasn't a suicide. It wasn't a murder. She just died. They say her heart stopped. A natural death.

I don't believe it.

It's just Doll was a good girl. She was such a polite and shy little shit. She was perfectly healthy and she was revolted with the thought of eating junk food. She literally gagged once because she smelled french fries in my breath. Weird fuck.

I remember walking down the hall with Doll. I remember spending my lunch trying to freak her out with ghost stories and possessions. I remember pranking her all the time. I remember her big blue eyes.

I remember so much about her.

Yet, I still laughed.

"Hi," someone touched my shoulder. As I turned around to face the person, I was met with a broad chest.

I looked up to his hazel brown eyes and kept a straight face. Chemistry. That's what I have next.

I responded while looking down at my hands, "hello."

His friends were talking in hushed tones near by as I peered over his shoulder at them. They stopped talking and looked at me with little to no interest. I guess they didn't find me attractive.

Connor.

Hazel eyes. Brown short brown hair. About a head taller than me. Good looking. A player.

He was what most would call a 'popular' guy. Most people liked him because he was nice to them. Girls found him extremely attractive, and teachers found him quite charming.

Now, why he was talking to me, I didn't know.

"How are you?" He asked politely. I walked away without responding.

He was wasting my time. I had no time for small talk.

Chemistry. I had chemistry.