Letter From a Dead Girl

Part 1

Dear Will,
    I'm sorry. For everything. For all the things I did, and for all the things I didn't. And what I'm most sorry for is not being with you right now, telling this to you in person. But I couldn't bring myself to even mutter a word to you, for I knew that if I did, I would lose all my confidence and wouldn't be able to do it. I know that your blaming yourself right now, and will probably for a long time, but it's not your fault. But because it's you we're talking about, I know your hating your entire being as of now. But you have to realize, it's wasn't you who pushed me to do it. There were too many factors to count. But for your sake, I'll explain the exact events that lead me to giving up on my life late Friday night. And maybe, just maybe, you'll understand. But to do that I'll have to tell you the long story-which started years ago, long before I ever meet you or even moved to this town.
    It started in South Carolina, where, now that I think about it, had been the best time of my life. But only at first. Every morning I had the same routine. Get up, put on a swim suit, and slip out the front door, each time making sure to close the screen door just right or else it would slam. Just in case my dad heard it-but it's not like he would have care anyway. Ever since I was an infant, he had hated me. Whenever he got the chance he would scold me, and for the dumbest of reasons. If I didn't make my bed by seven, if I got less than 100 on a test, if I went anywhere without his permission-I would get scolded. And all because of something I did before I could even open my eyes. Something he reminds me of every day-that I was the one who caused my mother to die during child birth. That I was the one who killed her. Or at least that's the way he said it, and the way the bully's did too.
    Ever since one day in 8th grade, when my 'killer' secret had gotten out, they had been pulled to me like a magnet. That was the one day my dad picked me up from school that year. And similar to every other day; he had been drunk. I'm a drunken rage he had dragged me into the car and yelled for all to hear that I was the one who killed my mother. Every single day after that, at precisely 8:10, they would descend on me like a flock of birds. No matter where I hid- a closet, the lab, even the bathroom-they would find me right when the front doors of the school opened and the wave of students started flooding in. Their teases still echo in my mind.
    "Oh look! It's the murderer," they would yell.
    "Why do you even bother coming to school, you belong in jail!"
    "Ahh...why don't you go cry to your mom? Wait, you don't have one!"
    Usually I would just turn away, but I clearly remember one afternoon where there was no way I could ignore them. They had followed me home, racing after me on their bikes. I had sighed in relief when I reach my street. They had always stopped there, but that time, they kept following me. They had finally caught up and their bikes were surrounding either side of mine. I remember shrieking when they rammed their bikes aggressively into mine, but I was quickly silenced by the gravel road.
    And that, Will, was the first domino to fall.
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A/N: Hello! So excited I finally posted the first chapter. Sorry if it's a little short!