Diary of a Dead Girl

My Dearest Sarah, June 7th

It’s not my fault. My therapist used to tell me that I shouldn’t blame myself as much. She didn’t know me. She didn’t know what I could do. It is my fault. I did it. They can’t know that though. 

Good Bye Sarah,

Daisy 

Dear Diary, June 2nd

Today was quite the day. I lost my best friend. She’d tell me that it wasn’t my fault. She’d tell me to blame Ryan for eating my lunch and making me on edge for the rest of the day, but I’m going to blame myself regardless of what I know she’d tell me. Maybe I can blame Ryan a little… I was hungry all day because of him so I guess that took my mind off of her. I forgot about her. We haven’t talked in a while when I really think about it. She’s one of those best friends where we could spend months without seeing each other or talking to each other but when we are together, it’s just us. It’s amazing when it’s just us. The world around us disappeared and all I had to focus on was her. The way the sunlight lit up her skin and how her eyes twinkled when she laughed. I guess now I should say, it was amazing. I hate that I’m going to miss her. I’m going to miss my Sarah.

I feel like I should introduce myself to you, dearest diary. It seems as though we are going to be spending lots of time together - thank you Ms. Fond (my lovely therapist).

Hello, I am Daisy and I am 17 years old.

• I like sunsets and sunrises.

• The beach is like my second home.

• And I totally didn’t get my best friend killed.

I should save that for the first day of school for when we do two truths and a lie. You should be able to guess which one is the lie, if not, then you’ve got a lot to learn about me.

Before today I was in my “self-care era” but now I’m in my “act normal and you won’t have to answer lots of stupid questions from people you don’t like" era. I’m bored of writing “my diary” so I’m going to give you a name - I’m stealing this idea from Anne Frank and her Kitty. It seems only fitting that since I’m doing this because of Sarah, I should write to her as well. So hello Sarah…long time no see, how’s the afterlife treating you? I swear if I die at the end of this I’m going to hell.

I’ve been in therapy since I can remember. I’ve never liked it but Ms Fond and I get along just fine. There’s nothing terribly wrong with me, my mother just watched some documentary on how therapy is sooooo beneficial for those who are still developing, **cough  **cough me, so here I am. Ms. Fond and I meet every Tuesday. Meaning I don’t get home until 7:30 every Tuesday. 

Her room is a creme color with a blue couch that is way too big for one person. I mean perfect size for two to lay down…but… it’s only me so I kinda just sprawl myself on it. As creative as Ms. Fond is about getting me to talk about my feelings every week, she’s not very creative with her decorations. She has in her possession three decorations in her little room. 

#1 The rug

I have no idea what the deal is with Ms. Fond and this rug but if anyone were to damage her rug then we would have a serious problem. Possibly even another body in our hands. Her prized rug is a creamy gold that illuminates her white room. A sharp contrast to her blue sofa but a perfectly perfect color for Ms. Fond. 

#2 The vase

Ms. Fond says that it’s priceless. I doubt that though, looks like she got it from IKEA. That store gives me the heebeegeebees. The vase curves in an uneasy way. Moving this way and that with a single crack protruding from the bottom of the vase. I’ve always wondered how that crack got there in such a “priceless” vase. Maybe the crack is why the vase is so priceless, I’ve never asked Ms. Fond so I guess I’ll never find out.

#3 Her books

I like to say that all of the books on Ms. Fond’s bookshelf is just for decoration because there is no way in hell that she has had the time to read all of them. She’s always complaining about how little free time she has and I’m just saying she doesn’t know about half the authors that she has on display.

My lovely mum informed Ms Fond that you were, “no longer a part of the spirits that surround us in the land of the living”. I’m so glad that all of this was sent in an email and not in one of those therapy things where my mom comes in and we share Ms. Fonds' couch together. I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself together in that situation. So that brings us to why I’m writing this.

I’ve always gone to therapy, yes? Yes. But nothing has ever happened to me. Nothing that called for the need for any coping skills. My mother and Ms. Fond want me to deal with and create positive coping methods on how to deal with losing you. I agree with them, I need to deal with you. But not how they think. I have to find out where to put you

• Daisy

Sarah, June 3rd

It’s Monday, your favorite day of the week. That always weirded me out, like why Monday. Monday sucks. This Monday though was a shit show and a half. They started a search party for you. A search party because of me. I may only be 17 but I’m smarter than all of them. They won’t find you, not unless I tell them. And trust me, I won’t.

Your picture is everywhere, you’re so beautiful. Your Dad picked out one of the pictures that I took of you for your Instagram. I remember that day. I loved that day. The cool breeze on our skins while we lay in the middle of a field we found while out driving. You said that we’d never see a place like that again and we needed to stop and capture it. You were such a wild spirit. A spirit that I didn’t want to share. 

Everybody keeps saying sorry to me, walking up to me with their hands clasping their books in front of them or shoved in their pockets like they are trying to hide something from me. They make me so mad. My ears pulse and turn red with the sound of blood rushing to my head. They all wanted you, Sarah, they all wanted you for themselves. But don’t worry, I didn’t blow it. I learned how to act ok even when you're not. I produce a sad smile and nod at everyone who comforts me. It works. Everything works. 

• Daisy

Sarah, June 4th

I forgot to update you about work yesterday. I had quite a fun time! I know you always loved hearing about Ryan, Ryan this, and Ryan that, it never got old to you. I love you but I wish that you would’ve focused on me like you focused on him. But what happened happened, you’re mine forever now, not his. 

I came into work yesterday around 5, Ryan and I were closing together tonight. Flipping burgers in the back made him constantly smell like grease. That horrible scent followed him like a lost puppy. Billowing around him constantly, only after he showered would I ever let him touch you. Don’t worry Sarah, I made sure he was always clean. Yesterday though he was a bigger mess than usual. His puppy still followed him as he passed me at the register, he wreaked of fear. He was going to get us caught. 

He was going to get you taken from me.

Ryan had been so nice to me, he had helped me, he had cared for you that weekend. But looking back on that blissful weekend that we had together, he was with you last. He was the reason that you were gone. He was the reason that I no longer had you. 

So now I had to take care of him.

While cleaning up, I asked him to meet me at Ms Fonds. His face dropped, and all expressions melted away leaving him looking white and drained. Picking his head up from the sink where he was elbow-deep in soap. He shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze from mine, he was scared to see you. If only he knew how you adored him. Maybe then he would’ve been more excited to see you again. He never appreciated you the way I did. 

He got what he deserved. He should’ve seen it coming, but he was blinded by fear.

So now, not even a full 24 hours later, he lays next to you. Buried under Ms. Fond’s perfectly perfect rug that illuminates her stupid white room, such a sharp contrast to her blue sofa that I lay on every week. Every week I get to be in the same room as you. I get to visit you and she doesn’t even know.

• Daisy

Sarah, June 6th

They showed up at my house, Sarah. They asked me questions, questions that other people in my situation would find uncomfortable. I’m better than them though, I’m better than Ryan, I’m not about to crack. And so I didn’t, I kept my cool. I was perfect for you Sarah. I glanced at my mother before answering all of the scary policeman’s questions. I am only 17 after all. I’m just a minor talking to a scary policeman.

When was the last time you saw Ms Sarah? It’s so cute how he called you Ms, he caught me off guard with that little word I had to remind myself that this was a test. And I don’t fail tests do I Sarah? Exactly.

I saw her on Friday evening, and we did our homework at the library together. We never even made it to the library.

When did you two leave?

I had to leave before she did, she told me her dad was on his way so it was ok if I left. I saw your dad when I was walking to work from Ms Fonds with Ryan, I made sure to wave to him for you.

The questions insured for a while longer like this and I know that I passed all of his tests. I know I did perfectly. He even asked me what our relationship was like. I didn’t feel like telling him how much I loved you and how you loved me, so I started crying and my mom asked him to leave. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

• Daisy

Sarah, June 7th

I’m not sure how much time I have left. I worked so hard to get everything perfect, everything was falling into place. Everything is not OK, Ms. Fond is gone. Something I didn’t do by the way. She got in a car crash. Something that happens every day. 43,000 fatal crashes a year actually, making over 115 fatal crashes happen every day. So this is normal. The only thing that’s not normal is that you and Ryan are buried under her favorite rug. Her favorite rug will be moved out of her office and sold somewhere, leaving the floorboards open and bare, open and bare enough to see nails missing and scratches all in a row, wearing down the boards just enough to move them. If they see those boards they will move the boards. They will find your cold body. They will see what I’ve done. What I’m capable of.

I’ve decided that I’m going to leave, I miss you, Sarah. Our weekend together was amazing, it was just you and me. I told you to think about it as a big sleepover - forever. I’m ready for forever. I wish it could’ve been on my own terms but I believe this is for the best. They will find your bodies and they will come for me. I’m not one to be caught. So I won’t be. 

I’m ready for forever Sarah.

• Daisy

I placed the paper down on my desk. My own dread for what I was planning was beginning to rise from the pit of my stomach to my chest. I was filled with adrenaline. My papers on my desk were so neatly piled together, that they would be found and they would be published. I was going to be famous. Everyone would know my story, how I had loved Sarah. How I had done this for her own good. 

My paper shifted. My eyes hurt from the lights above me that seemed to jump out at me now. Steadily getting brighter. My paper looked stark white now. From the cream white that originally took over my desk, I had to do a double take. It wasn’t my paper anymore. Lines. Lines of writing were now taking form on my desk. My paper was gone. Adrenaline still pumping through my body, it had changed. From the steady pump to a roaring in my ears.

You can’t leave yet

You can’t get away that easily

I was moved, again and again, because of you

Lifeless but you didn’t care, did you?

It was written on my desk. Well, not truly written. It was carved into my desk. 

My door creaked closed. A soft click I recognized as my lock. The lock to my door. My bedroom door had just been locked. Frozen in my seat, paper rustled. It flew towards me, circling, enclosing me in a tornado of my own words. Words about Sarah, the love that never loved me back. 

You’re right baby

I never loved you

It was her. A haunting image emerged from my papers. Now together encased in my own words to her. We were together again. I didn’t have to leave to get her back. 

You can’t have me back

I’m not yours to have

Sarah was hovering feet above me now, her head almost hitting the ceiling. Her voice was in my head. Like screeching nails against a blackboard. I wanted her out. It wasn’t her. The beautiful girl that I loved wasn’t above me right now. That girl I knew wasn’t in my room right now. She inched closer to me her hands as soft as lace around my throat. A chill ripped through me, shivers running down my spine I was captivated. Cold eyes looking through mine. My feet lifted from the ground, from flat, to my toes, and then I was airborne. Her hands no longer were soft, they had turned real. Cold but real. My face turned purple, and my feet kicked at nothing but kicked nonetheless. 

You’re going to know how I felt

And I did.