He was what she wanted. What she craved, what she needed, what she lived for. It was him. Only him.

But he didn't love her. No, he only had eyes for Jackie..

What a disgusting name. Jackie Lynn Thomas. Hideous, disgusting, nauseating. Just like Jackie.

But no, he loved Jackie. Oh, how he loved Jackie. He would come up to her, utterly raving about Jackie.

Jackie was perfect. Jackie was beautiful. Jackie was the only one he'd ever love.

Not her. No, never her. Why? Why not her?

She learned to ride a skateboard. Just like Jackie.

But Jackie was perfect.

She dyed a steak of her hair blue. Just like Jackie.

But Jackie was beautiful.

She became popular. Just like Jackie.

But Jackie was the only one he'd ever love.

Ooh, how she hated Jackie. Jackie was the only reason she didn't have him. If it weren't for Jackie, he'd love her. Oh, how he'd love her.

Then she'd be perfect. Then she'd be beautiful. Then she'd be the only one he'd ever love.

Oh yes, if it weren't for Jackie...then there'd only be her.

So Jackie had to go.

And go Jackie did.

She stood over the mangled, bloody thing that once was Jackie with a huge, twisted grin. She could feel a splatter of blood across her face-not her own, if course-and almost the entire front of her dress was sticky with the red liquid. Her hands were so coated in the stuff that they might well be red forever.

And that made her strangely happy. She started to giggle at the memory of Jackie's desperate, terrified screams. She felt an odd, pleasant tingle run through her as she remembered not only the sound, but the feeling of the large butcher's knife going through Jackie, again and again and again.

"Poor, poor Jackie!" she sang to the body happily. She giggled some more. "Now he's mine!" she cooed. "Mine! Mine! All mine!"

And then he was there. She squealed and leapt at him, flinging her arms around his neck gleefully. She was sad when he didn't hug her back.

"Aw," she pouted. "What's wrong? Why won't you hold me?"

He didn't hold her. In fact, he did the opposite. He shoved her away. Shoved her so hard, in fact, that she fell over backwards, tripping over the bloody thing in the for and landing on her butt in the large pool of blood.

Her foot knocked against the corpse's head (at least, he thought it was a head...), knocking what was probably once a face in his direction.

He started to shake as he recognized Jackie. He looked down first at his sweater, the front of which was now covered in blood from...

From her hug.

"What-?" He was breathing hard. He locked gazes with her, and she smiled up happily at him from the floor.

She was covered in blood.

Jackie was dead?

"What did you do?!"

"Oh, you mean this old thing?" She stood up and kicked Jackie's bloodied, mangled, ruined face. "I killed Jackie! Now we can be together! Right?" She giggled at him, and he started backing away.

She had never looked so psychotic.

And she looked almost like Jackie, he realized. When did she dye her hair? God, she almost looked like Jackie. Almost like the dead girl in the floor.

Jackie was dead?

"I love you so much, Senpai! Do you love me too?" She beamed at him. "Just kidding. I know you love me. You have to! Because now Jackie's not around anymore, and I can have you all to myself!" She laughed. "I love you!" she repeated. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you! We're going to be together forever! I'll be the best Kohai ever! I promise!"

"You—you...?"

She grinned impishly at him. "I love you!"

She loved him. And Jackie was dead.