I just keep throwing up. Even when I don't think I have anything left in my stomach to throw up, I still throw up. My dad has his hand on my back, helping me get everything up.

"Demi…" he says.

I'm hunched over with my hands on my knees. The tears haven't started yet.

I spit hard, then turn to my dad.

I clear my throat then say, "Take me to see Selena…"

"Demi…I...I can't. You're not ready for that… You don't need…" he stutters.

"SHE'S NOT DEAD. TAKE ME TO SEE HER, DAMN YOU!" when had I developed such a foul mouth? And when did my dad decide to excuse it?

Instead of smack me in the mouth like I had expected him to do, he tries to pick me up, but I refuse.

I see the stretcher on the sidewalk in front of the house. A couple medical assistants are discussing something with a detective.

I rip myself out of my dad's hold and run over to the stretcher.

"Selena, wake up? Come on. Wake up. You got us. If you're trying to get us to listen, we're listening. Please wake up. You have to wake up…you have to get up. You can't be dead. You can't be. You wouldn't leave me like this. You wouldn't do it." I plead over the stretcher. It's not until then that I start to bawl.

I hear the detective say, "Who's this little girl?"

But I don't answer him.

I blink so that tears will fall and I can see the body I was leaning on more clearly.

It's definitely Selena. Definitely my best friend.

She's laying on the stretcher, lifelessly. Her hair is hanging down at her sides, and her white t-shirt is stained with what I desperately want to be spaghetti sauce. There's a blanket across her from the waist down, and her hands are resting to her sides. I grab one of her hands.

I don't look above her mouth. I don't want to.

"She's her best friend." I hear my mom answer the detective's question.

My dad has his hands on my arms now, trying to drag me away.

"No….Dad. Leave me here. Leave me here! I told her I would be there for her… you have to let me stay! Please!"

"Demi…Honey, she's gone. She's gone."

I cover my hands over my ears. I don't want to hear that.

My dad hoists me up in the air, as if I'm weightless to him and carries me away from the stretcher.

I, of course, kick my legs at him, to get him to put me back down, but my efforts are useless.

As he carries me away from the stretcher, I open my eyes and finally see it.

Just above Selena's right ear, there's a bloody hole with ruffled skin around it.

Somewhere from inside me, a noise, similar to mother bear watching her cub be shot dead in front of her comes out of my mouth. Tears fall faster than they previously have.

I'm gonna be sick again.

I don't want my dad. I want my mom.

I look around for my mom as I'm thrown over my dad's shoulder.

I see my mom. She's comforting Mandy. Mandy needs comforted. Hell, even Brian needs comforted. From here, it even looks like my mom might need comforting…

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. It's too hard to breathe. I don't feel like I'm sucking in any air. I can't breathe.

Once we're across the street on my porch, my dad finally puts me down on my feet.

My legs are too weak to support my body, so I crumple on the floor.

I still can't breathe.

"Demi…calm down. Calm down…" he instructs me.

I can't calm down. I can't breathe.

"It's okay, Demi. It's okay…. It's okay…" he whispers to me.

I close my eyes. Big mistake.

When I close my eyes, I see the ruffled, bloodied hole again.

There's something wet and uncomfortable between my legs. Did I have to start my period RIGHT FUCKING NOW?

I snap my eyes back open, and look between my legs at my white pajama pants.

They're still white, and there's still liquid coming out of me. Am I peeing?

I'm peeing.

Normally, I'd be so embarrassed that I could die right now, but I don't even care right now.

I close my eyes and the image of the hole is still burned in my head. I start to pee again.

I just want to crawl up and die too.

My dad lays me down on the porch softly, and calls for Dallas.

Dallas comes to the door with sleeping Madison on her hip.

"Dallas, get me a change of underwear for her, pajama pants, and a new shirt. Lay them out on her bed. Get a bath started for her too." He tells her.

Dallas disappears inside.

They investigate Selena's death for a total of three days before they dismiss the case. They rule it a suicide, and that's that. She's gone, and today is her funeral.

It's right up the street, so we can walk. I don't want to go.

But I'm forced to go. It's best for me to go, but I really don't want to.

I take a shower and get ready for the funeral.

I get out the shower and head to my room. My family doesn't speak to me anymore. I don't speak to them. I think they know that I won't talk back anyway. Jordan's been calling for days, but I won't come to the phone. I hope he understands.

I look in my closet, and grab a bright green dress with butterflies and flowers on it, and slip it on. I put on matching green shoes, and let my hair hang down in curls. I don't put on any makeup. I grab a sheet of folded paper, stuff it in my stockings, and head out the door.

"…Demetria…Demi…baby…go change." My mom says as soon as she sees me.

I just look at her.

"It's a very pretty dress, honey. But…it's not appropriate for a funeral." She says.

She's dressed in black dress pants, a black shirt, and black shoes. My dad has a black suit on. Dallas has a black dress on, and Madison isn't here. I want to wear green, so I'm gonna fucking wear green.

I shrug.

She hands me a black jacket.

"At least put this on…"

I grab the jacket and slip it on without further adieu.

We walk the one block to the church, and I keep falling behind.

Dallas stays back with me, and holds my hand.

She's almost dragging me.

When we get to the church doors, two women dressed in black dresses hand both my parents a program. I freeze up at the doors.

"Demi?" Dallas calls me.

I am frozen.

My parents stop halfway through the doors and wait for me.

"Go ahead and get a seat, guys. We'll be in shortly." Dallas tells them.

My parents go without us.

Dallas sits down on the curb of the street with me outside of the church.

"You can do it, Dems. Selena would want you here, baby." Dallas says to me.

She rubs my back and dries a couple of my tears.

I get up off the curb, and Dallas follows me inside. She won't let me run.

We find our seats with my family near the front. A lot of people are here. A lot of people are crying.

When the church bells mark the hour, the ceremony starts.

I sit stiff.

A pastor reads bible scriptures. He talks about how "only the good die young." He talks out of his ass, and I want to slap him.

The casket is closed, by the way. I guess they couldn't keep it open, because the damage was so bad.

Mandy comes up to the microphone, and I actually pay attention.

"….I thank you all…for coming out today and…Celebrating. Not mourning. Celebrating the life of my…gorgeous daughter, Selena. Selena was…the greatest blessing in my life. And I know that anyone who knew her…or knew what kind of person she was thought the same. She had the power to brighten my day with a simple smile. She was a…very great little girl." She says. I could tell that her speech was cut short, because she started to cry her eyes out. I cry with her.

"Sleep with the angels, baby." She manages to choke out through her tears before she steps down away from the microphone.

I put my head between my legs before I puke.

I am crying so hard, that I'm sure I'm a disruption to the whole ceremony.

Nobody tells me about myself, though.

My mom taps my arm.

I know what this means.

But I don't think I can do it anymore.

I look at my mom.

She mouths the word, "Go" to me.

I bite my lip really hard, and it bleeds.

I take off my black jacket to reveal my bright green dress.

My mom cringes.

Dallas helps me up out of my seat.

My mom helps me up to the microphone stand.

I wipe my bloody lip with my hand.

I take a deep breath, and grab my folded paper from inside my stocking.

I unfold it and sit it down on the podium, so that I can read from it.

I sniff hard and begin.

"…Most of you guys know me. But for those of you who don't, I'm Demi. I was – still am, Selena's best friend." I sniff.

"…Selena was…honestly, the best friend I could have ever asked for. She taught me a lot of things, like how to be grown up, and how to love someone unconditionally, like I loved her. Like many best friends, Selena was not always nice to me. I was not always nice to her. But that's what made her special to me. She would always say, 'Thanks for being there for me, Dems. Even when I didn't deserve it.' Selena was very much like my sister. We did much of everything together. And she will always be my best friend. I don't know much about funeral speeches, but Miss Mandy and Brian asked me if I would tell everyone what Selena was like. And I agreed. I knew Selena better than anyone in here. And the truth is, unless you knew Selena, you can't picture the kind of person she was. She was always smiling, even when she was crying. I have nothing but good things to say about her, my very best friend." I sniff again, to hold back tears.

"I know some of you may be wondering about my dress. I know it's not exactly appropriate for a funeral. But I am wearing this dress, because green was Selena's very favorite color. And I knew Selena well enough to know that even at a funeral, she wouldn't want everyone dressed so drab and boring in black. She would want a party for herself…. A pretty, perfect, poised green party. That's the kind of person Selena was…" I finish and everyone claps for me.

I fold up my paper again and stuff it back in my stocking.

I make my way back to my seat, and my mom hugs me tight.

"I'm so proud of you, baby. SO proud." She says.

I nod. I am crying again.

When I get home, I want to go up to my room and sleep. That's all.

So I go upstairs to my bedroom, and nobody bothers me.

I check my cell phone.

Three missed calls from Jordan, and a voicemail.

I check the voicemail.

"Demi? It's me again. Sorry for bothering you so much. I know you need your own time. But I really want to know if you're okay…can you please call me back? I'm worried about you…and not hearing from you is really bothering me. I… I love you, Demi. Please call soon." Jordan says.

I'm not in the mood to talk, but I push the "redial" button anyway.

Jordan answers on the third ring.

"Demi…"

"….."

"Demi, you there?"

"…" I sniff.

"….I'm so sorry…about Selena I mean."

"…."

"You don't have to talk. I'll talk. You just listen…"

"…."

"I miss you. And I…um…" he stutters.

He mumbles, "I love you…"

"…."

"I know you're going through a rough time right now, bab…Demi. And…I wanna be there for you. I really wanna be here for you. Please…just keep in touch with me. I was gonna stop over, but you weren't answering the phone..."

"…."

"Well, anyway… I'm gonna go now, Demi. Feel better, okay? I'll come over to visit soon, I promise…. L… love you?"

"….Love you too.." I whisper.

He blows a kiss into the phone and hangs up.

I throw my phone again.

I hate my phone. It's slow. It's a flip phone. It has an antenna. It tells the time. It sends text messages slow. And it NEVER rings loud enough.

I go over to my laptop, and switch it on.

I haven't been on facebook lately. I'm sure I have a few people to thank for their "I'm sorrys."

I log on, and scroll through my news feed.

Nothing much…

I click on my own wall, and there's a TON of "I'm sorrys" and "feel better demi's."

I don't even thank anyone. I don't feel like it.

I do something gutsy, and click on Selena's facebook page. It hasn't been taken down yet.

There's a BUNCH of "RIPs". I bite my lip at the page, and start to cry.

What I see next, INFURIATES me.

"Rest In Peace, Selena. I didn't know you were hurting so badly. We love and miss you 3

-Rebecca Santos."

I am FURIOUS. I want to KILL Rebecca, and I probably will when I get the chance. I swear to god I'm gonna murder her.

I click "comment" on that post, and type something really nasty to her.

"Don't say you didn't know she was hurting so badly when you HELD HER DOWN so she could get beat up. You wrote SLUT on her locker, and you MADE SURE her life was hell. Don't you DARE send your condolences when YOU AND YOUR POSSE are the reason she's dead! I SWEAR TO GOD ON SELENA'S GRAVE THAT YOU BETTER NOT LET ME EVER SEE YOU AGAIN BECAUSE I'M KILLING ALL THREE OF YOU. IN SCHOOL OR NOT. Better have a bodyguard. You are ALL murderers. You, Samantha, Brooke and Paul are ALL murderers. I hope you burn in hell. I hope GOD has no mercy." I comment.

I am mean.

I don't give a shit.

I felt like she needed to know that.

I kept scrolling through Selena's page.

I scrolled until I could see Friday night. I wanted to know what her last post was.

And her last post…I surely find.

A shiver goes up my spine when I see her last post.

It's a video.

…..i can't help but click on it.

It buffers all the way through, and I click "play."

I watch the video silently.

Selena walks in front of the camera, and sits on her bed.

She is not crying. She is smiling, happy and chipper. An act.

She starts talking.

"….Hi everyone? I'm Selena. You all probably know me. Or at least you THINK you know me. I know I probably look like crap right now, but it's 1:30 in the morning, and that doesn't really matter. I just thought I should tell you guys something. I want you guys to know the truth about me." She says.

To everyone watching this video, they would think that she's really happy.

But I am Selena's best friend. And I can see through her. She's not happy. She's acting happy in this video to refrain from crying…

I continue to watch.

"I know a lot of you people think that I'm a slut….or a whore. But I want you guys to know that I really am not. It started at a party. Rebecca Santos' party, the second week of school. I was going out with Paul Richards. And I made a mistake…. A mistake that really has ruined my life…" she explains. She is in front of the camera, and her tears are visible right now. She is crying now, and so am i.

"I made the mistake of letting Paul in my pants. And I swear that was all that happened. I didn't have sex with him, I did not go down on him, he did not go down on me. And I swear that on my life. And I also swear on my life that I did not try anything with Samantha Lewis' boyfriend, Luke Almers. I don't like Luke. I have never liked Luke." She sniffs.

I am sobbing right now.

"And all the writing "SLUT" on my locker, beating me up, throwing food at me, calling me names and spreading rumors about me is totally uncalled for…. It was one mistake. One mistake that found a way to ruin my life."

I should pause the movie before I throw up again, but I have to keep watching.

"So right now, it is 1:40 in the morning, on Saturday, December 1st, 2007. Thank you….for watching this ten minute video. And I'm sorry for all the people I've hurt. And I'm not sure why I'm so hated. But I finally hate myself too." She shrugs, tears falling from her gorgeous face.

"…and this is it. I'm sorry Rebecca, Brooke, Samantha and Paul. For making you hate me so much. I'm sorry." Are her final words.

She gets up to the camera, a small shiny gun in her right hand.

She shuts off the camera, and that's the last eleven minutes of Selena's life.

I need to throw up.

I get up out of my computer chair, swing open my bedroom door, and head for the bathroom. I don't make it to the bathroom. I collapse in the hallway, and I don't care about being quiet anymore.

I scream and cry so loudly, I am deafening myself.

I hold my stomach tight, and sob.

I am a wreck.

My mom comes upstairs first. Out of breath, she kneels beside me.

"Demi, what happened? What happened?"

I am throwing up in the corner of my hallway and screaming.

Dallas comes out of her room.

"What happened to her?" Dallas asks.

"…I don't know. Go….go look in her room. Is someone in there?" my mom tells her.

Dallas goes into my room, and doesn't come back out.

"Dallas?! What is in there?!"

"…..Mom….c….Come….look." Dallas sputters out. I'm sure she's standing in front of the computer.

My mom leaves me throwing up, peeing myself, and sobbing in the hallway for a moment.

When she comes back, the look on her face is like she's seen a ghost.

Instead of telling me that I'm okay, my mom rubs my back and lets me have my episode.

"…Dallas….honey…when daddy comes home from getting Maddie, tell him to keep her outside. Bring me….s…some things to clean this up, please."

This is new. I'm shaking, now. Shaking is new.

Selena's death wasn't a suicide.

It was murder.