Contains spoilers for Requiem.
A not very beautiful, un-cured girl without friends writes down her thoughts about the rebellion. This could be my feelings, actually. It sounds childish sometimes, but that's how our minds work.
Everything belongs to the wonderful Lauren Oliver.
I hate her.
I never met her, but I hate Magdalena Halloway with every cell of my body, with the core of my soul.
Why?, you're asking. She wouldn't understand it. She has friends and a boyfriend. She has courage and she is beautiful. My life is the opposite. I'm always the one who sits alone in a corner, who stays at home during the illegal parties. I haven't even kissed a boy and I won't.
She ruined everything.
Just a few months and I would have been cured. The loneliness, the hate and the fear would have vanished. I would have been married to a man. A nice, safe life. I would still be ugly, of course, and probably without friends, but it wouldn't matter.
But here I am, sitting in a corner, writing, crying, seeing my dreams shatter all around me while others celebrate and sing and dance on the streets. This is where I was all my life long and where I will stay until I die.
I hate her.