Disclaimer: I only own Christine. No one else wants her... I'm going to go and put my life on the line with this one...

I remember her faintly. She's just a blurry image. When my mind wanders off and I see her, it looks as if I need glasses. It looks like I'm staring at her through water.

I remember her faintly. I've had her pushed to the back of my thoughts lately. She was a subject that went untouched until now. I don't know what brought it up, but something made me think about her. Would she be alive now? If that sad excuse for a human being hadn't shot her, would I have killed off the only person I was close to? It was a long time ago. I have changed drastically and for the worse.

I remember her faintly. Maybe she could've saved me. Do you here that Christine? YOU COULD HAVE SAVED ME AND YOU LEFT! YOU LEFT LIKE ALL THE OTHERS! I'll never forgive you for this...

I remember her faintly. It wasn't all her fault, I suppose. She didn't ask to be shot. She actually seemed quite content with her life. But she did leave. I'll never forgive her for that.

I remember her faintly. Look at me now. I'm brooding and killing at the same time. I'm multitasking just like you said I always did. I didn't understand what you meant until now. I can be doing something and thinking something completely different at the same time. I wonder what you'd say if you saw me now. Covered in blood. Standing over a corpse. Would you ask what happened and be nonchalant? Would you ask why I didn't save a person for you to kill? Or would you scream and run away like all of the others. If you did come back, which I highly doubt would happen, I wouldn't let you get away again. You're my friend. Mine.

I remember her faintly. I remember walking into her house for the first time. I don't remember what it looked like. I just knew I was in there. I went up into her room and was surprised for some reason. Oh great, now that's going to get to me until I remember.

I remember her faintly. I remember picking something up. It was red... A book! That was it. It was a little red diary with a rose on the front. There wasn't a lock on it, just a clasp. I took that book with me and never opened it. I put it somewhere and planned to open it when I was ready. But I had forgotten where I put the damned thing.

I remember her faintly. I think I know where I put it!

I remember her faintly. This is amazing! I actually know where I put that book.

I remember her faintly. I found it. I can't bring myself to open it though. I feel that if I do, everything will be destroyed. No. That's stupid. Nothing will be ruined.

I remember her faintly. Here it goes.

Dear Diary,
Johnny gave me this diary. He keeps insisting that I call him 'Nny, but I've gotten into the habit of saying Johnny. Odd how he has appeared three times in the first few sentences, isn't it? He's been on my mind a lot lately. I can't seem to figure out why. The voices suggest love. I know that can't be it. Mother tells me not to give the voices names and they'll go away. So I won't call her mom.
Oh, how rude of me. I've forgotten to introduce myself. I am Christine.
I've completely gone off topic. Do you see why it's hard for me to hold a conversation? I wonder if Johnny will find this and read it. I might have to kick him in the shin. Just kidding. God, where's your sense of humor?
Maybe it is love. Maybe I should go scrub my brain with steel wool for even thinking that. Love? Yes. No. Yes. No... Yo... That's my answer to you all. Yo. The mix between yes and no without the maybe. Is it normal to confuse yourself? What do I care? I don't seem to reach the standard for normal. Not my problem. Or maybe it is.
I'm hungry.
Until next time, Christine.

I remember her faintly. Every page is filled with confusion. Teenage hormones. No. I don't think so at least.

I remember her faintly. The irony of it all is bitter. The one person who cared for me (maybe even loved me, who knows?) is dead.

I remember her faintly. Fuck. I hate that. When you finally realize something and it's gone. The opportunity slips right through your fingers.

I remember her faintly. Then there's the whole self-loathing part. Where you know you could've done something to prevent it.

I remember her faintly. Strange how I'm reading her diary and writing in mine at the same time, isn't it?

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Please. Don't kill me. If you do happen to want more, which I doubt but lets just say; If you do want more or have any questions (I tend to confuse people.) review!