Hate. Such as strong word isn’t it?

Now multiply that word by about a thousand and that’s how I felt every time I went to school. After a few of the mornings I decided to go to my mother and ask, “Can I stay home today?”
“Why do you want to? You sick?” _Or does it have to do with Bianca’s death?”
“You’re right. It’s Bianca.” My mom gave me a confused look, but answered, “Bree, why are you blaming yourself with her death? I mean, sure you might not have liked the girl at all, but you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“Whatever you say.” I sighed. More hate for me then.

But it made no sense. Nobody liked her before, I had heard all their thoughts on her. And now they’re all acting like I’m the bad guy. As Bianca said in her suicide note, they were merely fake crying. And yet?

I’m surprised that Bree girl still shows her face here.

Doesn’t she know how close I was to Bianca? And now…she’s just gone.

Murderer!

Hmmm, perhaps people can lie to themselves.