Chapter Nine

5th July, 2005.

Today, like most days I am going to Craig's house, I have been here for the majority of the week and I think I will most likely stay here for the remainder of it. On Saturday I will become Mephisto's pin cushion, which is fun. And Stew, but fun I mean daunting and terrifying and oh shit I wet the bed sort of fun. Craig has been supportive enough, trying to squeeze in a full 'I love you' but he hasn't succeeded yet.

I've already written myself a will and a goodbye letter encase the whole thing goes downhill. Which it probably will. God.

Prey for me.

Part Eight

The fourth of July was not a success, it was boring and dull and just a few fireworks and a big dinner to fulfil the evening, I ended up venturing out to Stark's pond with Stan. Our families had decided to celebrate together and the idea of sitting with Randy drunk and Ma raving could've killed me quicker than Mephisto.

"Stan, I'm fucking terrified, what if I die?"

"You won't."

"You don't know that!" I shoot back, enraged suddenly by his calm demeanour, does he not care for my current living or dying situation? I feel like I'm eight again and lying on my bed, knowing that Cartman will never give me his kidney and that I'm going to die.

"I do!" Stan says calmly again, I choose to go with it, it's a night of celebration of course.

We sit and throw stones into the water, wanting them to bounce and glide across the water's edge, some do. However most don't and Stan is the only one that can really do it.

When it becomes too dark to actually see where the stones are hitting, we decide to call it a night.

"Mephisto doesn't mean you any harm, Ky."

"Doesn't mean that's not what's gonna happen, Stan. I'm just fucking terrified he'll get something wrong, or my body will react funny or I'll die!"

However, Stan refuses to acknowledge the fact that dying is actually an outcome. Fuck him, he's a pussy.

I won't tell Craig about it, not after the way we've been acting, flirting, kissing – practically anything couples do that doesn't go past groping and fondling. However, I am not ready yet to be renamed 'Craig's girl.' I suppose he's got a long wait ahead because I don't know if I'll ever be ready to be called that. When I went to his house today, we decided that we should pass the times watching films.

So after we had watched every Alien movie Craig's Dad's video collection had to offer, we turned to something else. A film called 'Ghost' we both thought it was so mixed SIFI, paranormal shit, but turns out it was the opposite. Two lovy dovy people, who like to do phallic things with clay. I'll pass.

We ended up going for a walk on the main street, filtering in and out of various shops. I realised that I'm probably going to be too ill for prom, but Craig says he'll take me even if it's my ashes. That is both creepy and cute; let's just hope that he'll be taking a full, intake breathing body. Which will be me, ps.

Even after ranting about how I'm not one for prom, my words slapped me in the face as I came face to face with the most beautiful dress on earth. A creamy white dress that falls straight and gives the illusion of a slim figure underneath, the dress is designed for legs. Let's face it. They're my best feature.

The dress is lacy and white and is kinda a turtle neck cut on it, it doesn't have sleeves and it would match the burgundy hair that curls around my face.

This dress is made for me, and even Craig can tell, because he is the one who looks at the price tag, pulls a face and says, perhaps if we both chip in, and maybe both of our parents too.

$300.

Can you believe it.

Me neither.

After depressingly leaving the store, then the town centre altogether, we rejoiced at mine. Finishing off the last Alien movie that Craig's Dad's collection was missing and eating an impressive amount of ice cream between us. Which won't be good for me in the long run.

He leaves with a kiss in front of Ike, who laughs and calls us gays, which ironically is kind of true.

He laughs against my skin as Ike turns to the kitchen, leaving us alone once again. His arms are around my waist and his fingertips trail circles into the dent where my spine lays. He breathes against my neck and my head turns and presses against his cheek in reaction to the tingly sensation. I sigh, pulling him closer and feeling him do the same.

"I'd say this is pretty romantic." He begins, trying to ebb the forbidden words into our moment.

"I don't think so." I respond, kissing him gently and pulling back.

What happens if I die, and leave this horribly, half written diary left in my place. If someone was to ever find it, well they'd be in for a treat! Joking.

I suppose the situation was quite romantic, and I suppose I wouldn't have stopped him saying I love you if he had tried. I think I do now.

No, I know I do. He feels like safety and comfort, he feels like the softest bed, he feels like Ma's homemade pastries, he feels like warmth and belonging. He feels like home.

I suppose I am in love with that ass.

FIRST OF I AM SO SORRY I STOPPED WRITING THIS FOR AGES! I have been writing some serious stuff lately and it feels weird to return to this 12 year old style of writing, although I feel like I cannot let this story go until the complete end.

No I am not dead and No I am not stopping until this is done! This was written at 1;00 and I didn't proof read it or anything, this chapter is fucking awful and I'm not going to lie, I've lost all love I had for this piece.

Happy Halloween beautifuls xxxxxxxxxxxx