this is just a little story i had to write for school i hope you guys like it
My name will sound familiar but you won’t remember why – at least not at first. I’m grateful for that. It gives me some space, however brief.
When you do remember, it won’t be my face you recall. Not that the press didn’t shoot plenty of pictures. But it’s the photograph of her that was famous. The composed, tranquil tilt of her brow. The piercing paleness of her eyes, such an unusual colour, like the ocean on an overcast day. Blue-green she called them. The photos couldn’t do her justice, they couldn’t convey who she really was, inside. She was so painfully beautiful, you were drawn to her like a moth to a flame, fluttering around her in impotent adoration. Lily. I need to talk to you about Lily . You see Lily is not that kinda person who tells you when she Is hurting she would rather tell you she was fine and smile. But then you have people like me who have been around her for a long time and you can tell when she is in pain or something is wrong. Sadly I was the one who in the first place cased her all the pain and I regret every time I punched or called her names. I never new she was getting hurt at home by her mum and dad .I always thought she fell over and that was why she had all those cuts and buries or it was my fault . When I saw her photo over all of the newspapers and all over the T.V saying she had been killed by her dad . I had so much I wanted to say I was sorry for but I would never get the chance now I wish I was never her bully.
