It wasn't supposed to be this way.
It was never something I dreamt to be, but rather a gift that I couldn't
ignore. It started with the lies about my staying late in school to do some
extra credit (not that I needed it). And then I told lies about my use of the
Stark LabI faked the consent and reason in order to enter. And eventually I
was lying about everything else too.
But as excellent as a liar I might be, lying has not led me to greater
things. Until a few days ago. Was I guilty for what I had done? So let the
record show that this time I am telling the truth when I tell you that no, every
single bit of conscience has left my system.
I was walking in the hallway and to the Library with The Hamilton
Musical playlist blasting through my earphones. Despite the raging loudness
banging in my eardrums, this contraption was in no position, good for
drowning out the noises and the voices of the people around me.
Geek
Loser
Dud
Nerd
Weirdo
Freak
Freak
Freak
Freak
A freak. Thats what I always was. Maybe thats always what I will be. A
living, breathing anomaly.
But I was so used of the endless, unceasing scorns and mockeries that
I became numb, unable to feel.
I got out of my reverie when I bumped into the door of the library. How
typical of me.
How typical of me to carelessly collide into things. Into a place where
people like me shoud belong. However, in some twisted frustrating way, I still
didn't. Yes, I love books and yes, I do love to study but sometimes it just gets
a little boring. Like, couldn't these books be a little more tricky? Shame.
I continued walking as I touch my now bruising head and glared at the
innocent books in front of me. Honestly, I don't really feel like reading nor
studying today (as if I still need to). It's just that I enjoy the temporary peace
libraries could provide. My feet, who seemed to have a brain of its own,
continued walking mindlessly until I reached the end corner of the room. And
there, I found the book that could change my life forever.
BLACK MAGIC
....
It all started on my 16th birthday. My mom decided to throw me a
party. Sweet sixteen. How sweet. I was so excited. I was extremely happy.
But no one came.
I should've expected that. I mean, I have no friends. People just tend to
have shallow minds and they just cannoy accept how great I am. So on that
night, I started to write. I wrote fictional stories and compiled them. I wrote
stores as if I am the main character and it helped. Because of them, I
stopped feeling alone. Because of them, I finally learned what it feels like to
have a friend.
I spent the whole week scrutinizing the contents of the book until I
finally came up with the right formula.
*insert calculus*
I stumbled and fell buutt first on the floor when my books started
shaking as if someone has been shaking them. I stared, wide-eyed at the
books and covered mu ears when I heard a screeching sound out of nowhere.
It all lasted a few minutes. I closed my eyes. And when I opened them again,
three very lovely ladies met my vision. I recognized them immediately.
I made them.
"Perfect. Perfect!" I shouted and cried as I hugged each one of them.
"Real. So real."
I cannot explain how happy I felt that day. I was like a six year old child
who had her first ever taste of cake. I finaly had my own set of friends.
Or so I thought.
The first day was normal. They talk with me. I dressed them up like
normal people. I fed them. We shared some stories. And I was happy. The
second day was the same. On the third day, Faera threw a tantrum when I
told her she cannot go outside. On the fourth day, Clarie started acting
weird, as if she is doing something behind my back. On the fifth day, Juliette
stopped talking with me. She just sat alone on a chair and started writing
numbers on the wall as if she has been counting hours. The next day became
worse. The three wanted to go outside and I started to feel a little
uncomfortable with them. And so, I let them go. It was already late at night
when they came back and I immediately knew that something was terribly
wrong. There were bloodstains on the floor.
There were bloodstains on their hands.
On the next day, news spread that Jon Maxwell's body was found
lifeless on the street. Right then, I knew something was really wrong.
The bloodstains.
The dead body.
I grabbed my diary and opened it.
July 16, 2013
I hate Jon Maxwell. I would be happy to see him dead!
Oh My God.
Right then, I knew I had to make a move. Something was wrong about
the formula. They were not friends. They are not the ones I wrote.
I inspected the formula carefully.
*insert rght calculus churva*
"What are you doing?" Faera shouted and I jumped in shock.
"It's time for you to go back." I answered, voice and hands trembling
with fear.
"How dare you? We helped you. We killed John."
"And we will kill more." Claire added.
I ran to where my books are while clutching the black magic book.
