DOE

P A I N A N D D I A R Y E N T R I E S

That's why she was so familiar.

Jasmine used to be your old friend. I remember, when we were 6, we went to Sri Lanka. We were in a hotel in Bentota, a heavenly beach on the coast. I remember you talking to a pasty girl. I remember you introducing 6-year old Jasmine to me, and how I was so jealous of her, and how well she and you gelled together. We only stayed for three days, but you stuck by her side the entire time. How glad I was when we left couldn't be put into words. Jasmine had braces, brown eyes and brown hair back then. I look in the mirror. The elfin girl who looks back looks exactly like the 6 year old from back then, just with more colorful hair and slightly darker skin.

I shake my head. I was so caught up in keeping you to myself, I hadn't wanted to lose my only friend. Now I had.

Sometimes, though, I think that it's for the best. My death, I mean. I did get fabulous new friends. Friends who were willing to look past my looks. Friends who were good, friends who didn't care about popularity. They cared about what's inside. What matters.

I shake away my thoughts. I turn my attention back to the white book I had in my hands. I open it to the first page.

'I cannot take it anymore. Everytime I look at my mother, all I can think about is her betrayal. What she did to my father. For the record, my father is way more handsome than the tubby Yoga-instructor my mother had that affair with. I know my father forgave her, and I know that they're all trying to get over what happened. But I know,  deep down inside, that my father's sad. He was so deeply in love with my mother that he left everything- the perfect job, the perfect family- to be with my mother. He works like a mule in a job he doesn't want to work in, all for her. He showers her with jewellery, gowns...all for what? Didn't she even THINK about her two fricking children when she did whatever she did? And on top of that, ever since the incident, she's been strangely distant. Last night, I asked her some question about the man she cheated with, and she slapped me. When I ask her if she wants to see my sculpture that I finished, she sneers and goes back to watching Orange Is The New Black reruns. And she HATES Orange Is The New Black. Oh, and yesterday, she went to the storeroom, and when I walked in on her, she flew off the handle, locking it and swearing at me.

Something's going on. And I'm going to find out exactly what.'

I sit back. The date on the top says the entry's from two days ago. I flip to the next page, and I see yesterday's entry. Her last entry before I possessed her.

'Okay. At this point, I'm seriously considering committing suicide. Yesterday I was sitting in the living room, when I heard my parents fighting in the kitchen, I eavesdropped on them. It's quite obvious that my father hasn't let it drop. Do you know, diary, how hard it is to just stand and watch while your family is literally crumbling in front of you? Ace was crying when he heard their shouts. I had pulled him close, telling him it was all okay. He was devastated. And it's all because of Mom. She's hiding too many secrets. I don't think I should live anymore. You know, maybe Dad, Ace and I should just back out of the picture. Maybe we should let Mom make an ugly family with the trollish Yoga Instructor from hell. Maybe I should murder Dad, Ace and myself at midnight and let Mom go on her way. Joking. Maybe.

Anyway, tonight, Mom and Dad are leaving. They say that they've got to go somewhere to 'recollect' themselves. Ace is staying with Grandma. That means I'll have the house all to myself, from tomorrow onwards.

Tomorrow, I'll go into Mom's room and get the Storeroom Key. She can't hide things from us anymore.'

I shiver. Setting the book away, I stretch. Jasmine's family is messed up.  I look at the Black-Cat Clock on the wall. 7:30. I sit up. I push off the painful sandals, and put on a pair of Electric-Blue flip-flops, which I scavenged from the closet. I pull off the tank, pulling on a loose blue T-shirt with fake butterflies clipped on the collar and sleeves.I try to remove the butterflies, but in vain. They're fastened too tight. I let loose the ponytail, purple feathery hair cascading down my shoulders. I look relatively normal now, I think, looking in the mirror.

Mae, here I come.