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I bumped into Micheal last night on my way back from the library. He apologised for being a bit distant with me since the party - it turns out he made a bit of a pass at me and tried to kiss me and was embarrassed that I turned him down. I don’t remember any of it, of course, thanks to the date rape drug. He said he’d seen me looking sad the last few weeks and thought I was mad at him. I’m so relieved that we’re talking again! I didn’t realise how lonely I’d become since ending things with the princes. It felt good to have someone to talk to after what feels like weeks of debilitating loneliness and silence. We’ve arranged to go out - just as friends - for a walk around the grounds later tonight. We might even go to the beach. I’m really looking forward to it. If I can make this friendship with Michael work, I might actually be able to bare the last couple of months of term here.
Anyway, so once I got back to my room after bumping into Michael, I really struggled to open my door, which I thought was odd. I managed to heft enough weight at it to be able to slip inside, and that’s when I discovered reams and reams of paper that had been shoved under my door.
I scooped up as much as I could and took them to my bed to read them. I definitely should’ve just binned them Charlie. Every single note was in different handwriting, every single one was full of hatred and loathing, telling me to kill myself. There were pictures and diagrams even suggesting how I could do it. It was sickening. But I couldn’t stop reading them all. One stood out from the rest, though I had to read it a couple of times before I understood it fully.
It was a suicide note.
In my handwriting.
Looking like I had written it.
What the fuck? It was so convincing even I would think I’d written it. It made me feel sick.
And that’s the paper that broke me.
I’m done. I’m not staying here anymore. That note scared me. It would fool anyone - even you. I have no desire to kill myself, but I’m scared by what they might do. I think self-preservation has to win out over pride at this point. I don’t care that I wasted my inheritance in coming here for nothing. I’ll move back home and start year eleven all over again at the local comprehensive, even though it means being held back a year, I don’t care.
I just can’t do this anymore. Especially now it’s not just myself to think about.
I have to protect this new life inside me, at all costs.
