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My name is Twilight Jaylee Black, and I am the worst girl you will ever meet. I’ve lied, I’ve cheated, I’ve stolen, I’ve coveted, I’ve killed, I’ve done just about everything you’re not supposed to, and still have yet to get caught. This is my confession. I guess I’ll start with the lesser evils. First, let’s get the ‘about me’ out of the way, just so you know everything about me. I’m sixteen years old, have auburn-brown hair, brown eyes, and I’m five foot seven. I was born and raised in New York City, only leaving to visit my mom in Boston. My parents divorced when I was ten, Dad remarried when I was twelve, while Mom was an alcoholic. That was why they divorced. She couldn’t keep away from alcohol long enough to actually do anything. Anyways; I’m a loner, have no friends and several enemies. I don’t get close to anyone, not wanting to get hurt. Time doesn’t heal everything. I was born on February thirteenth, nineteen ninety-five at eleven fifty-nine P.M. Okay, onto my sins.
I’ve lied. Who doesn’t, right? Well, I didn’t lie about just anything. I’ve lied about nearly everything. I lied to my mom every time I said ‘I love you’. I lied to Dad, when I told him I didn’t mind him dating and remarrying. I lied when I said I like Estelle and her son, Xavier. The truth is, I hate Mom, I didn’t want Dad to date or marry Estelle, and I dislike her and Xavier as much as humanly possible. That’s not all. I lied to the cops when I said I didn’t know what happened to Emily Jackson. I do know what happened to her. She killed herself, after telling me to come over. She had left a note for me, saying to hide her body where no one would find it. It’s under the floorboards beneath her bed. Or, where her bed used to be. I lied to you, when I said I have no friends. I had one, it was Emily. I know why she killed herself too. It was in the note. It was because her parents were divorced, her siblings had all moved out, and she was alone. I was the only one who understood. She couldn’t take any more. No one at school knew about her parents but me, so she had the stress of trying to keep her grades up, keeping up her happy face around everyone. She ended up failing anyway, and being who she was, she couldn’t take it and hanged herself in her closet. I lied about who killed Xavier and his girlfriend, Samantha.
I’ve cheated. Who doesn’t cheat at some point, right? Ask Xavier. Oh, you can’t now, can you? He never cheated. Not on anything. Not a test, a quiz, on Samantha, nothing. He was the poster child, perfect in every way. But me, I cheated. On nearly everything. I cheated on tests, quizzes, pre-tests, the whole shebang. I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I couldn’t cheat on one. So that’s not as bad as the rest.
I’ve stolen. I’ve stolen everything. Half the clothes in my closet were taken. All my jewelry; stolen from all the local jewelry stores. Sorry for the inconvenience.
I’ve coveted. Wanted something that my neighbor had. Who doesn’t though? The thing is, a lot that I coveted, I stole. I coveted my neighbor’s bike, so I stole it. Anything someone had that I liked, I’d steal it. Sorry everyone. Feel free to take your stuff back.
I’ve killed. No smart-Alec question for this one, huh? Who did I kill, exactly? I killed Xavier and his worthless girlfriend. I couldn’t take their incessant teasing. They’d always make fun of me for being a loner, having no friends, how I’d end up being some eighty-year-old virgin. Imagine being taunted every day of your life because you happen to dislike most of the human race. So, I killed them. I suffocated Samantha while she was sleeping over with a pillow. She was so good, she didn’t even scream. Xavier was harder. I had to catch him by surprise, make sure he couldn’t get his phone and call the cops, or yell for his mommy to come and save him. So I knocked him out and tied him to a support beam in our basement, his mouth taped shut. Instead of being nice about it and just ending it, I killed him slowly, plugging his nose and making sure he couldn’t breathe out of his mouth. To make it worse for me, I enjoyed every second.
What else could I have possibly done to top that? Oh, nothing that could top cold-blooded murder, so I’ll let you figure out the rest. Heck, you can even blame me for stuff I didn’t do, I don’t care. Get a parking ticket? Blame me! Well, that will end this. Good-bye and have a beautiful life. Love you Dad, hate you Mom, hate you Estelle, have fun seducing my dad you evil chick.
~Twilight Jaylee Black
I folded the letter, set it on my bed, and took one final look around my room. “Good-bye you hateful world.” I muttered. I peeked out my window from my dad’s penthouse suite, all the way on the top floor. It was a lazy day, only two people walking along the sidewalk. Perfect. I thought, taking the stolen pistol from under my mattress. I smiled and brought the gun to my temple. My final sin. I pulled the trigger and my world went black.
This eulogy was given by a very reluctant Estelle Black after her sixteen-year-old step-daughter committed suicide on January thirtieth.
'For those who don’t know me, I am Estelle, Twilight’s step-mother. One of the people, I’m afraid, who drove her to her death. Her father asked me to write the eulogy, so here we go. I didn’t know the young girl very well, so a lot of this information is from the minds of her father and her mother.
Twilight Jaylee Black. She was born and raised here in New York City, living a fairly good life. She was born just before Valentine’s Day, on February thirteenth, nineteen ninety-five at eleven fifty-nine P.M. She was small in every way. Weighing barely seven pounds, and not very long, parents were, of course, concerned, but were told nothing was wrong with their baby. Twilight and Angela, her mother, were able to go home the next day. She progressed normally, learned to walk and talk quite early, and gave her parents a fair amount of heart attacks. Everything was fine in her life, and she was only moderately affected by her parents’ divorce.
It happened when she was ten, still young and innocent, unknowing of the world outside of her little bubble. Most kids would be traumatized by the experience, but not her. On the outside, at least. The only obvious difference in her was her attitude. She would speak less, gradually stopped bringing friends home, and would hardly look at anyone. When she turned twelve, her father remarried, and she became even more withdrawn. She hardly spoke to me, and usually the only words out of her mouth would be snapping at my son or his girlfriend.
Being only sixteen and the average student she was, she had no big accomplishments in school. She did write several stories, though, and we are in the process of making the few corrections they need and sending them out to publishers. They are all amazing mysteries and they keep you guessing until the very end. I suggest reading them.
Twilight didn’t have the best relationship with family members, biological or otherwise. She and her mother were on pretty bad terms, she and Xavier never got along, and I know she didn’t like me much and would not want me to be doing this eulogy for her. She and her father had the best relationship, though it was also rocky.
Her hobbies consisted of mostly sitting in her room or the attic at a desk with paper and a pencil, working hours on end, twisting plots, animating characters, questioning things we think we know, and unraveling mysteries. She was in a club which involved writing stories and her father and I had bought her a computer to make it easier for her to write. She’d sit in front of it, fingers poised above the keys, waiting for some idea. After nearly two hours, she’d give up and pull out a pad of paper. She went through that routine every day for three months before finally admitting she just couldn’t get ideas flowing on a computer, but she’d use it to write out final drafts of things.
Twilight was definitely one of the most unique and intriguing girls I have ever had the blessing to know. She was an introvert, causing most people to think she was just another girl. Sifting through her keepsakes, her stories, the letter she left, that proved that all of her shyness, her temper, it was all an act. Behind the angry, shy, girl-next-door mask was an amazing, beautiful, loving, curious girl no one got to know. With every keepsake, she had an index-card, saying why that item was important to her. A picture of her family when she was a child, because there was that small part of her that wanted her old family back. Her stories let the curious, slightly twisted side of her shine through. Her letter, that was her confession. It revealed her dark side, the side we all thought we knew, but it was so much darker than we thought.
What will we miss about Twilight? I think I’ll miss the wonderful works that flowed from her mind so freely, the way her voice always had a melodic sound to it, even when she was angry. I’ll miss seeing her walking through the house with her mess of auburn hair, the light that subtly entered her eyes whenever her father entered the room. How many here can honestly say they’d miss absolutely nothing about her? None of you. That’s exactly what I thought. Even Twilight Jaylee Black, the dark, brooding teenager that used to be so bright and cheery, had qualities we’ll all miss.
Though she is gone from this earth, she will not be truly gone until we have all forgotten her. She will live on in our hearts, we will continue to use her name with no shadows or sorrow behind it, and though she may not have loved me at all, I will love her and her spirit as if she was my own daughter. She will never be forgotten.'