_Dear Diary,

Soon. Soon. Soon. I keep repeating that. It’s my little mantra lately.

How can he think I don’t know about her? He stinks of betrayal, of sneaking and lying and story-making. I’m not a fool. He is. Lovesick and puppy-dog eyed when he walks in from being with her.

Enjoy it while it lasts, fucker. I’m going to destroy you. The best part is that no one would ever expect it. No one can seem to see just how fucked up I might be. I think my soul died and rotted at some point. Because all I can see when I close my eyes are visions of me standing over you, knife at the ready, a few initial wounds developing on your face where I’ve punched you. A warm up to the fun I’m going to have watching you die.

Everything’s ready, inspected and sharpened. It’s just a matter of when. The next time? The tie after that? I can’t get careless now.

Okay, need to go study for my math test! Geometric proofs, yuck!

XO,
Taylor _

Her stepfather put down the diary with shaking hands and sat, heavily, on the pink bed.