Friendship
She drops the rifle to her shoulder. "Like I'd let you run around the forest with a loaded gun." She aims the rifle at the ground, and it occurs to me she's going to fire it. She thinks it is unloaded because that's how she keeps the gun, but I'm thinking about the cartridge I loaded, and I can't get the words out in time. She squeezes the trigger.
I felt strong. And angry. Angrier than I've ever been. His bare, wet chest collided with my palms, and I shoved him—hard. He staggered and fell backward.
But before he got a word out, his eyes shifted from me to the driver's-side window. BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Something stung my cheek. It turned out to be a shard of glass.
Something splattered all over my face and my hair and the front of my coat. It turned out to be blood and brains and tiny pieces of bone.
Someone screamed. It turned out to be me.
My real life friends are gone. My online friends are just a bunch of liars. For a while I used you and your horoscopes to give me hope, but now I realize how stupid I was. Mr. Selenski tried to warn me, but I wasn't listening. I guess I didn't want to hear.
I can't believe I've been writing to you like this. You must have had a good laugh. And here I am doing it again.
You won't be hearing from me anymore.
