AN: The first bit is a little down but as time goes on it will get more upbeat. Sooooo, please read and review and you'll be my best friend in the world :D

June 30th, 2007

Jessica's been attacked. I, we don't know what happened but the entire time she kept babbling about some demon attacking her and the others. Those others are now cold and waiting in the hospital morgue with hundreds of other bodies to get buried six feet under and become the food of bugs. Jess is tore up so bad, some animal must of mauled her and what it is the doctors and police officers aren't very sure, but they're guessing it's along the lines of a wolf, a very big, pissed off wolf.

As I write this my hands are shaking, not from fright, not from nervousness as my sister lies in a sterile hospital moments from dying. No, they shake because I want to kill that thing that put her there, disturbing thoughts that make me smile are filling my minds eye, stabbing that beast, shooting it, or if I'm in a creative mood pushing it off a cliff into sharp rocks below I know thoughts like these shouldn't cause my eyes to glitter and the tops of my mouth to curve but they are. How messed up is that? But I can't tell Mom, Dad not even Crow, since they adopted me they've always been there for me but some things I can't even tell my brother.

I'm sixteen now, but twelve years ago I was in an orphanage, just a little blond girl dealing with the death I had caused. I hadn't always been there; it had only been a year since my biological father had dropped dead. Poppy and Greg Croaton, those were my parents. I remember my mom she was so beautiful, she was so tiny almost like a fairy with fair white skin, sparkling hazel eyes and thick, curly red hair that seemed to have a mind of its own and she was always outside. Greg was a little different, he was tall and quiet with tan skin and platinum blond but my mom could always make him smile and laugh. When I was two though she was diagnosed with cancer, it had progressed so far there was no hope for her to recover and live and a year later we buried her. The day was sunny and bright with the scent of flowers filling the air heavily, she would have loved it if she was still breathing.

My dad kept hiding something from me the entire time, before she died she had tried to tell me something but my dad had stopped her, sending me out into the hall saying Mom was too tired to talk, that whatever she had to say she would tell me later after she rested. So, I went out into the hall and she closed her eyes, she never opened them again. After she died I remembered this and a few days after the funeral I asked my dad in my cute little children voice what Mommy wanted to tell me, but he wouldn't tell me. It went on for a bit me asking and getting angrier as children will and him just not telling me. I finally said I wished he would die and he got this pained look on his face and dropped down on the floor, dead. Now I know your thinking no one can make someone die but it wasn't the only time it happened. When I had been adopted by the Crowe's and we were living in Arizona I started going to school, duh, and when I was in second grade I met Felicia. She had the makings to become a mean girl when we got older and she was practicing that meanness on me so I told her to go play in traffic. Again, she got a strange look on her face and went out into traffic, got hit and died.

These are the things I can never tell them, and now these thoughts are added to them. I don't know what to do and I ask you God, why are you such a mean bastard?

Sera Crowe

September 14th, 2007

It's been awhile since I've written in here, what do those commercials say, depression hurts? Yeah, they have no fucking idea how much it hurts. I tried to kill myself two weeks ago, my mom found me before I could actually die. It had just gotten to the point where it was as if I wasn't living anymore anyways, I had stopped talking to all my friends and family, stopped going out and the only things I did was go to school (sometimes) and think about finding and killing that beast. We buried Jessica in July and since then I had gotten worse. Anyways, I decided since I was barely alive I might as well just stop living altogether. So, when everyone was out of the house giving me 'space' I filled the tub with hot water and grabbed my sleeping pills, the only way I could sleep without waking up screaming. I slid into the hot bath; through the water I looked so pale and thin because I was. I sunk down until my white blond hair floated on the surface dreamily and my mouth was hardly above water. Taking a handful of pills I chewed and swallowed all the quicker to O.D or pass out at the very least. Just as I was slipping away into black tunnel in which a tiny pinprick of light my mom threw open the bathroom door, nearly shattering the mirror when it hit it.

As my hazel eyes rolled back behind heavy eyelids my mom dragged me out of the luke-warm bath and called nine-one-one. A few hours later I woke up in too much pain to be dead, let me tell you stomach pumps are sooooo not fun. My mom wanted to kill me though I could from the relief in her eyes she was more then just a little happy God had worked a miracle and I had come out of the entire ordeal entirely unscathed. Physically that is, mentally something has changed. I can't keep doing this to my family, drawing away from them, it's not fair. So, I'm going to slap on a smile, drink a few gallons of Mountain Dew and try like hell to be how I used to be. I am glad that my mom hasn't told my dad or Steve about what happened, and I pray they never will find out.

Sera

P.S I'm still going to kill whomever or whatever killed Jess