March 13
I feel hopeless when I see IT in school. The world seems to shut down around me as he walks past in the halls. School is almost over; I just have to get through three months. Three months of roaming the halls as if I were a ghost. It is crazy how one night can change your life. A night in a warm summer’s day, your friends are all around having a good time while you lay silent, petrified of what has happened. It felt like time froze, as if everyone was breathing and I was drowning. I can’t stop replaying that night in my head. I run it through my mind every night and day, thinking about what I could have done different. There are so many things I did wrong but, if I were to do one thing right I could have saved myself. I can’t change it now; I have to live with the fact that there was no one to help. Mom and Dad once again lecture me on grades, attendance, and attitude. If only they knew what I’ve gone through. I just need them to understand why I won’t speak. In reality, there is nothing to be said. Andy Evans will never change; he will never care about how much pain he has caused me. Nobody will know why I called the police. It just hurts; the feeling of drowning in your own thoughts and feelings. I want to be happy. I want to have friends who invite me to slumber parties. Staying up till my parents go to bed so I can sneak out and go to late night pool parties. Doing the thing you get grounded for weeks for. I just want to be a normal teen. I’m not normal though. How can a girl who has gone through so much still act normal? She can’t. Life goes on but, it slows down. Every day of my life I will think about it. At one point I have to move on but, who says it has to be now? I don’t want to move on. He needs to feel guilty. He needs to understand that what he did was wrong. That will never happen. He probably has not thought about what happened. That is what hurts the most.

April 21
It has been a month since I have written anything. I’ve been too worried on how to draw a tree. A tree, it is so difficult to draw a tree. That is one of the things you draw in kindergarten. It is one of the easiest things to make. Branches, roots, and leaves; all it takes to make a tree. I feel stumped. Like I can envision what tree I want and how exactly I want it but, I can’t bring it to life. It stands there dead. Trees should be strong and lively. Mine looks like a withering willow. It doesn’t have bold branches or vibrant leaves. It is dark and half dead like someone poured chemicals on it. I am ready to give up. I have ruined so many linoleum blocks that Mr. Freeman has reserved the rest for me. It feels good that he believes in me. He sees potential in me even when I can’t. He gave me a book on Picasso to read. I was surprisingly interested in cubism. Picasso used it to “see beyond the surface”. You rearrange what you see to look beyond it. It was probably one of the only things I truly understood in the book. I tried to use cubism on one of my trees. At the end of class when I turned in my drawing Mr. Freeman practically congratulated me. It was a start to my perfect tree. Most of my tree pictures are in my closet. They are not the best but, they are some of the best one I have done all year. You can see the progress in my drawings. They have gradually gotten better over time. I work on them at home a lot. Ivy and I have become friends. We talk during art. We aren’t like how we used to be though. I wouldn’t expect to be the same. Rachel/Rachelle flirts with IT all the time now. I am going to warn her anonymously. I know we aren’t friends but, she deserves to know what he is capable of. He isn’t a charming young man. He doesn’t even portray himself as one. The thought of him hurting another girl is horrible. Especially if I could have prevented it or even just warned them. School is almost over. That means no more