[full list of content warnings here. murder and suicide will be brought up I am so sorry.]
Three of my classmates died back home because of me. Technically, I didn't kill them and never meant to, but I'm still an accomplice in three murders because I helped cover them up as suicides.
...I feel terrible about them. But—not as terrible as I should be feeling. And that makes me feel worse.
I hallucinate my dead classmates regularly, and I'm trying to keep a lid on that, because I just want to be a normal kid. I mean, yeah, I've got superpowers now, but I'm seventeen.
My old best friend tried to commit suicide after I broke her heart and told her that I faked a love note she thought her crush wrote her. I—I miss her. And maybe without me around she's doing a lot better.
My other best friend was a huge bitch, but she didn't deserve to die. Neither did those two assholes. They were just kids.
My boyfriend's a murderer. The three classmates I talked about? That was him. But I loved him anyway, and I wish we'd met before the world ground him down and spat him out a monster because I would've liked to go to prom with him, instead of leaving him for dead on the floor of the boiler room.
...he tried to blow up my school once and pass it off as a mass suicide. I shot him in the stomach and dragged the bomb out to the football field, and then I ended up here. I think I'm dead, back home. I think everyone's better off back home.
I don't really like slushies that much. They were more my boyfriend's favorite drink. But sometimes when you just want to numb the pain for a little while, brain freeze is easier to hide.
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Three of my classmates died back home because of me. Technically, I didn't kill them and never meant to, but I'm still an accomplice in three murders because I helped cover them up as suicides.
...I feel terrible about them. But—not as terrible as I should be feeling. And that makes me feel worse.
I hallucinate my dead classmates regularly, and I'm trying to keep a lid on that, because I just want to be a normal kid. I mean, yeah, I've got superpowers now, but I'm seventeen.
My old best friend tried to commit suicide after I broke her heart and told her that I faked a love note she thought her crush wrote her. I—I miss her. And maybe without me around she's doing a lot better.
My other best friend was a huge bitch, but she didn't deserve to die. Neither did those two assholes. They were just kids.
My boyfriend's a murderer. The three classmates I talked about? That was him. But I loved him anyway, and I wish we'd met before the world ground him down and spat him out a monster because I would've liked to go to prom with him, instead of leaving him for dead on the floor of the boiler room.
...he tried to blow up my school once and pass it off as a mass suicide. I shot him in the stomach and dragged the bomb out to the football field, and then I ended up here. I think I'm dead, back home. I think everyone's better off back home.
I don't really like slushies that much. They were more my boyfriend's favorite drink. But sometimes when you just want to numb the pain for a little while, brain freeze is easier to hide.