Rest In Peace (sequel to After They Died)

9-Freddie

Dylan straight out denied putting the notes into my locker. It's so obvious though, so there was no point in lying to me. He said that it wasn't him but he does think it's disgusting and immoral what I'm doing. Pfft, fancy words don't scare me. He said that Rachel "didn't deserve this." I'm sorry, what? Just because she's dead now, doesn't mean she's some saint for crying out loud! Everyone is making out that she was the model student: hardworking, popular, caring and all that malarkey. Ha, she was anything but!

It's her memorial next week and our whole year is going. I don't really know what to expect if I'm honest. Some sobbing parents dressed in black from head to toe? Wait, no, she was an orphan. Ok, maybe sobbing friends and those claiming to be friends with her just for attention crying in clusters around her coffin. She'd probably turn in her grave at the sight!

I hate when people say that they were close to someone when they discover that they died, but when she was living they couldn't give a toss about her. I think it's just plain rude. Begging for pity by snivelling pathetically in the corner of the room. Although people kind of hate me for not crying about her death. They think I'm being insensitive, what's their problem with me?

I'll admit it, I loved Rachel. I really did. She was my reason for getting up and going to school every morning, rain or shine. She was the reason I looked up jokes on google just to hear her beautiful laugh which was music to my ears. She made every tedious day at school bearable just by flashing me a goofy grin from across the room. I've never felt the way I did about her towards any other girl. She could light up any room she walked into just by smiling. It was like she had a halo over her head and rays of sunlight surrounding her. She was beautiful even if she didn't see it. I wish I could tell her that now. But I messed it all up. Maybe if I hadn't hooked up with Jeanette she'd still be here. But she cheated on me. She hurt me. She betrayed me.

I try not to think about her too much as it hurts like picking at scabs not ready to fall. Fresh wounds. When I think of one happy memory, I can't stop. I loved her but she hurt me badly. Then she committed suicide not even a week later. It's like a part of me died with her. But I can't live in the past. I have to move on with my life. I have to. Even if I'm nothing without her. I guess that's what love is: learning when to let go.