Diaries of a Dead Girl

The Beginning and the End

So, this may come as a shocker to everyone else but I was just murdered by my ex-best friends. Yeah. Crazy, right? I wonder what the headlines say, "Mysterious Teen Death" or "Nora Willadonna Found Dead". Well, let's just get this straight. I'm dead and pretty soon all my "BFF's" will be too. I'm not going to kill them but I will haunt the crap out of them until they wish they were dead. You think I'm crazy now? Well guess what, I'm pissed and all hell is about to break loose.

I died for no reason at all. I never did anything to them, but be the best friend I could, considering the fact they thought I was some weakling who just took whatever they threw at me. You know what, I used to take that crap from them, all the bullying and embarrassing pranks. I just thought they were being funny, that they did this stuff to each other all the time. I finally had enough and told them off. Then they took it too far and crossed the line. The day I stopped and told Freya off was what began the last week of my life. The beginning of the end, as I like to put it.

So, throughout this book you will read my past diary entries to catch you up and then the rest of my story will commence. By the way, I don't recommend reading this story if you're someone who is a bully or has killed someone (accidental or not). The guilt might be too much for you pathetic people. No, on second thought do read this story. Get into the minds of all your victims. See how a rage and a fury so deep can come back and bite you. Then, when this is all over, ask yourselves, is bullying worth the consequences? Prepare yourselves, I'm not a very nice dead girl.

How about I start from the beginning. It started on Saturday when Freya, Willow, Isla, and I were out at the mall. We were just goofing off trying on random things and browsing the racks, when Freya, the head of our little group, wandered off into the lingerie section. She eyed a bright blue lace thong and picked it up with her red painted pinky finger. Her green eyes flashed and her red hair swished in crazy curls as she nodded her head.

"Guess what we're all about to do?" she said.

Willow raised her finger and wiggled it from side to side. "Tsk tsk, you must be out of your mind. You know what my parents would do to me if they found out I put something like that on? I'm excluding myself from these shenanigans."

Willow lives a pretty good life with her parents and two sisters, she's always striving for straight A's and never purposefully gets on her parent's bad side. Her favorite all consuming hobby is doing her dark brown hair into puffy ponytails or long thick curls to her shoulders.

Freya, on the other hand, is a foster child who has really good foster parents considering the fact that they could be much worse. Since she is an only child she is kind of spoiled rotten and not used to hearing the word no. She's the ultimate bad girl. She sneaks out, kisses boys (of all types) she doesn't know, and has a bad habit of stealing things when she knows she can get whatever she wants with her sizable allowance.

"Ugh, Willow you are such a goody two shoes. Don't you ever do anything interesting?" cried Freya.

"Ugh, Freya don't you ever try not getting into trouble? Anyway, words don't hurt me, actions do, and today's action would be putting that string on my behind. So, no."

"Well, how about you Isla? You wanna get out of those baggy briefs and try this on for size?" Isla is our own personal copycat. Well, she likes to copy Freya at least. If Freya decides to make out with some boy at a party, so does Isla. If Freya tries to steal something Isla watches her back while she is committing the crime. When that happens Willow and I walk off to another store so we don't get caught in their cross fire. Isla whips her fine blonde hair with her artificially tan hand and she smiled a devilish smile.

"You know it! In fact I'll go first." She snatches the thong out of Freya's hand and stalks off towards the fitting rooms.

"Now she has some spunk, I can't say the same for you though Willow. Nora? What about you?" I look at her as if she asked me a question in Russian. She must be crazy if she thought that I was going to put that thing on. Plus, she knows very well that I am the ride- along for things like this.