CHRISTINE
While taking a shower, Barbie’s face crawled back into my mind. The way she smirked at me, the way her finger curled around the strand of her perfect shiny hair, the way her hips swayed when she walked with confidence. I wanted to hate her, but how could I feel hatred towards someone who was dead, especially if she died because of me? I shouldn’t call her Barbie anymore. Despite being a b!tch, she didn’t deserve such a horrible ending and I needed to show at least partial respect.
I was responsible for the death of four people. Me. For it was me the rogue wanted.
The hot water kept falling on my skin, washing away all the dirt – physical and emotional - yet I shivered. This was all my fault. That vile person ruined me. He was the reason I suffered from a lifelong trauma, and i
