Dear Kristine,

I can't tell you how things have been lately. I can't even explain it, but I'll try anyway. I'm not used to being hated or feared or whatever this is. It's like someone branded me, stamped the word "murderer" in big, red letters across my forehead for everyone to see. People… when they look at me, I don't think that they see me anymore. They just see the girl who screwed up. They see… well… a murderer.

You think I'm kidding, don't you? I'm not. Kris, my friends won't even look at me. You remember Lauren, right? My best friend. I've texted her a total of 527 times since "it" happened last month. I know. I counted. She never answered back, not once. She ignores my calls, and whenever I stop by her house, her mom says she isn't around, even though I know she is. I remember when I used to hang out at her house all the time, and that kid that basically stalked her would always stop by. Sam Marshall, I think his name is. You know who I'm talking about? You know, the kid who probably smokes too much, who refuses to cut (or wash) his hair? Yeah, that guy.

Anyway, she'd always make a face when he'd drop by, and she'd tell her mom to tell him that she wasn't there. We used to laugh about it, we used to look out her bedroom window and watch him walk away dejectedly. I wonder if I look like that when I walk away from her house without getting to talk to her. Do I look so pathetic? So crushed and miserable? Does she watch me from her window and laugh, too?

I don't like thinking about that, Kris, but I don't know what else to think about. Everything around here… it sucks. Mom and Dad avoid me. I would say it's because of the incident, but I know that's not it. They started distancing themselves from me ever since last year, when you moved into your dorm up at the university. I guess that this just gave them a good reason to finally cut off all ties to me. I see them only a few times a week if I'm lucky. Or maybe you could say if I'm unlucky–I don't really like being around them anyway. I know you get mad at me when I talk like this, when I say these things about them, but I can't help it. They want me to be you. You know I can't do that, Kristy. You know I can't.

School… well, school is like the rest of life right now. It completely blows. I know that the counselors thought that it'd be better if I transferred to North Senior High, but it's not. It's just like stupid Free State. People still talk about me, people still point me out in the hallway and whisper like I don't realize what they're doing. People still ignore me. It's not like they don't know the rumors. I'm basically famous here. I know it's always been your dream to be famous, Kris, but don't be jealous. This… well, this sucks. I hate it.

I hate this. All of it. I wish you could save me like you always used to, but I know that you aren't going to. I don't think I can get used to that–you not being there for me, I mean. Nobody's here for me anymore. I'm not used to being so alone.

So, I'm sorry I'm being so whiney. I know you always hate it when people complain, so I'll just stop now. I miss you, Kristy. I'll even wait and see if you'll reply to this, but I know you won't. You hate me, too.

I don't blame you.

Love,

Lacey


Author's Note: Yeah, yeah... I know I've done a terrible job keeping up with my stories on here. The thing is... I've gotten these horrible writers blocks that kill my imagination. I'm sooo sorry! So I wanted to start something with SHORTER chapters, so that maybe I could actually keep up with it, and it wouldn't be so hard. I'm still writing Gambling With The Heart... it'll just go a LITTLE slower, because I'm stuck on it.

Anyway, I have a question. I thought that I'd make this a story of just letters (that are kind of like journal entries, so they'll explain a lot and stuff), but I was wondering... should I put any regular chapters in here? I don't plan to, but I'll see what people say (if anyone DOES say anything...)

So, yeah, I hope this doesn't suck.

~Autumn