Emily was fourteen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a girl who has had a very unlucky, short life.

Submitted: October 31, 2010

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Submitted: October 31, 2010

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1st September, Emily’s parents were killed. Emily was fourteen.

I remember the first time Emily came to my school, she was my best friend in an instant. It was strange because we had nothing in common, our personalities for a start. She would dazzle crowds with her charisma, it felt like whenever she talked, people would stop and listen. I loved how Emily would never take no for an answer, once she jutted her jaw and pouted her face, she was unstoppable. She would stride down corridors and smile effortlessly to her friends.

Emily had a cat once, she found him in an alley and begged her parents if she could keep him. I think that cat was the best thing that ever happened to her. Every morning she would take time to brush his black coat and in the afternoon she would run her fingers through his fur. She spent hours talking to him. Sharing all her problems. I noticed that there was always a smile on her face, especially when she talked about him. A week or two after his second birthday, he ran away. Emily always believed he was stolen, that he would never purposely leave her. She never stopped putting up MISSING flyers. She wasn’t sad, never cried, never lost it, because she only had happy memories of him. That’s how Emily was; always positive.

I walked into her room one day and I remember thinking how much it reflected her personality. Her half completed painting. Her photographs pinned to the corkboard above her bed. Her sports gear hanging up in the corner of her room. Her numerous awards placed carefully on the shelves. It was obvious to say she excelled in everything, but one day, her parents were killed.

That night she came to me, she said she would only shed one tear for them, and she did. In the following weeks I saw a change in her. She would barely be seen amoung a large crowd anymore and kept to herself instead of talking to others. She slunk down the corridor with her shoulders hunched, her hair protecting her face. She shielded herself away from her friends. Emily said the people we love are our whole world. Her world was crumbled one night and mine was destroyed a month later.

1st October, Emily killed herself, Emily was fourteen.


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