Dear Rose,
By the time you read this I'll be dead.
You and three other people will get this letter. I hated you, you are the reason of my death.
Four memories of us:
1) first day of junior high when you said I liked your boyfriend and called me a slut.
2) when you put bleach in my shampoo which cause my hair to fall out.
3) telling my parents I slept with my teachers for good grades.
4) bullying me.
I hate you well hated. Do you feel accomplished? I'm gone..I killed myself like you told me to.
P.s I didn't cut my wrist sorry babe I used my sleeping medicine, how ironic.
Bye,
M. Miller
YOU ARE READING
Gone//M.Miller
Short StoryShe was gone, her eyes didn't hold their usual glint, her paintings were dark, music taste went down the drain, it wasn't her anymore.
