September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary,I believe I'm a good person. Ya know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year.I look around at all these kids I've known all my life and I ask myself, What happened?
The cemetery had always felt so peaceful. The dead couldn’t argue, couldn’t fight, couldn’t S P E A K. So there was peace.
Or maybe that was just what J.D. wanted to think. Maybe that was his comfort, that somewhere in all the chaos, there was peace. Peace found through the end of life. And always feeling like he was just on the edge of the living and the dead himself, J.D. found this to be his spot of inspiration. A writer had to get it from somewhere.
Here, he sat, undisturbed and somewhat peaceful.
Here, he was alone.
Until he W A S N’ T.
There was someone else here now. A girl. And maybe he was circling her like she was a prey, maybe he wasn’t. But he was rather certain she hadn’t seen him yet. Not until he stepped towards her and spoke.