The Face of a Killer

January 31, 2013
So, there's this girl at my school. She's awkward. She has these big blue eyes that stare without blinking, and my friends say she's weird. They say a lot of things about her. They talk about her behind her back a lot, and most of the time it's only from a couple of yards away. I think she knows it too. Honestly, only a fool wouldn't suspect it. I don't really think about her much. In fact, I think she's weird too. I laugh at her with my friends, and here and there I'll crack a joke myself. Still, I think nothing of it. Then, I was reading an article about a girl who killed herself, and I finally thought something of it. I thought to myself: I don't know her story. I don't know what this girl goes through every day, and I don't know what she goes home to. In fact, I don't even know if she has a home. So why, I ask myself, do I always laugh and make fun of her all the time? She's never even done anything to me. All she's done is try to be friends with me, and I keep my head down when she says hello, failing to pretend I didn't hear her. Sometimes I look her in the eye and still ignore her. The thoughts in the back of my head all start with 'What if'. What if the article I read was about her? What if my friends and I were what pushed her over the edge? Would I be able to look in the mirror and see myself, or would I see the face of a killer?





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