friendsfoughtâ:
she laughs a little, able to recall a few people she used to know that were similiar. she has to admit, she wasnât always the most gracious loser, but thinks it was more being childish than anything - and surprisingly, she never held onto it for too long. then itâs back to the more grim words, and the smile fades, expression neutral as per usual. â people donât like being told what to do. especially if theyâre teenagers who just got a whole lot more freedom than theyâre used to. i wouldnât blame yourself for that response. â
itâs not the first time she wonders how her class would have dealt with this situation if this was what theyâd ended up in instead, but the thoughts disappear when she notices the otherâs hand on her wound. itâs something she can sympathise with - hers bother her often, but at this point, itâs become more of a nuisance than anything. her next words arenât exactly tactful, but theyâre out of her mouth without thought. â did they have a funeral for you? did you watch it? watching who mourned for you could tell you a lot about how they actually felt. â
âYeah thatâs an understatement. Even if it means theyâll starve if they donât stop treating it like a free for all.â Cassandra sighs, running a hand through her hair. âI get that they didnât like me telling them what to do, but I canât believe heâd killed me over it.â Sheâs seen the face of her killer, and she knows sheâll never get it out of her mind. âWhat gets me is that I canât tell anyone who did it, or if I can I donât know how to do that.â Thatâs whatâs even more infuriating. At Satomiâs question, she shakes her head. âI know they had one, but I couldnât bear to watch it. I didnât want to see my younger sister, the boy I like or one of my best friends upset over my death.â
âMy parents donât even know Iâm dead.â













