I close my eyes and zone out the sound in the room.
I thought back to how it first started. My life had gone so well. How did things turn out this way? There were tears shed and happiness arise as well as despair during my last week in middle school. I was accept to the Nation most famous high school with my best friend. Getting admission was hard, but staying in was also a challenge. My family was happy. My other close friends were in between. Sure they were happy and proud that we got in, but then they realized that we won’t have a high school life together. I was glad I could be away from my family. No, it’s not that I hate them, but they’re just too overprotective, and I just needed some space. And why not, I get to be with my best friend.
Now here I sit in the court room, wearing this orange custom with handcuff around my wrist. God, this is ridiculous. I try my best to zone out the court sound, but it got in my head. I wonder when this is over. My wrist begin to hurt and turn red. I wanted to cry, but my pride took the best of me. I keep my gaze down so I wouldn’t have to deal with others’ stares. I wonder if our parents are here.
I still can’t believe I am being trial for a murder.

Just a few days ago, I was sitting in class and 2 police officers came and arrested me for a murder. I was as stunned as everyone else in the classroom. By lunch, it has become the topic of the school. I don’t really know how many days has passed exactly.
You see, sometime I would go to sleep on a Friday, and would wake up to a Monday.  Weird, isn’t it? Well, not many people know about this. Only my family and my really close friends know about this. The one who knew best was, of course, my best friend. If I have describe it, I would say multiple personality disorder. So are you going to introduce me yet or not? I’m getting to that, you know. Well, I guess you have already meet her. She never come out on school days, but always during the weekend. Who knew what kind of mess she got herself into lately? I know. If I have to describe her, I would say impetutous and a psychopath. Hey, that’s not very nice, you know! And I’m not a psychopath! Yeah, right. You had your hands around this guy’s neck for bullying me in kindergarten and almost chocked him to death, remember? Well…yeah…but… see? Now let me finish talking. So like I said, everyone was surprise when I plead guilty to the murder of Jasmin. I may have not done it, but maybe she did. You know, sometime I wish you have more faith in me. We might have been the total opposite, but we still the share the same body. Whatever she has done, I take the blame for it. Carrie, my best friend, always said I was too soft on her.
“You should blame some of the bad stuff on her, you know! Don’t just take the fall for what she did!” She said to me one time when I was suspended from school for about a week for writing on the school’s wall. Of course, I didn’t know she did it until they pulled out the security tape. Busted. But it was a masterpiece, though.
Jasmine, our neighbor in our dorm, was found dead the day I was arrested, and there was DNA evidence of me being presence there during her death. Well, there was no fingerprint, of course, but my hairs was there, which surprise me since I never step into Jasmin’s room. I really didn’t do, Jennifer. I didn’t kill her. It would be understandable if my hair was there because that day, Carrie suggested that I let my hair down, so I did. I was the perfect suspect because Jasmin and I, along with Carrie, never get along with each other.

I look up. Oh, it’s already over. I got up, and without looking at anyone, I was escorted back to my cell. I was so space out I didn’t notice the guard calling me, saying that I had a visitor. I wonder who it is. Your parent? One of your brothers? It was Carrie. Obviously, she would be the only one there when no one else was. When I sit down, she look at me, exhausted.
“Hey.” She said, grabbing my hands.
I smile weakly at her, taking my hands back. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to touch these hands that killed Jasmin.”
“Who care about her anyway?! She deserve to die in the first place!” I inch away from her, surprise to see Carrie screaming at me for the first time. Whoa, there. Had she turn mad because you’re here?
Sensing my reaction, she soften down. “Jennifer, oh Jennifer. Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m just…” she look down, then perk right up.
“Jennifer, I know more than anyone that you didn’t do it. I attend all your trials. It seem the next one will be your last. Especially with all the evidence, it seem like you will be sentence for life or worse, the death penalty. Why don’t you just told them you didn’t do it? You have MPD. I’m sure they understand your situation.”
“I don’t really know whether or not Jessy did it or not. She told me she didn’t, but you know her. If she really did it, we both are responsible for this.”
Tears well up in her eyes. Or was it something else? “There you go again. Taking the weight of the world into your own shoulder again. That’s one thing I hate so much about you.”
“Sorry.” Even though I say that, it feels so robotic. A monotone response.
She sit down in her chair. We stare at each other for quite a while. Her face was unreadable. Breaking the silence, she said “I did it. I killed Jasmin.”
I could hardly register what she was telling me. She finally said it, huh? Wait, what? You know, Jessy? Why didn’t you tell me?! Telling you your best friend commit a crime and make you taking the blame for it? Yeah, right. I would rather kill her and have you hate me instead.
“W-why?” Hardly audible, I stare at her in disbelief.
Now it was her turn to smile at me weakly. “Gosh, don’t look at me like that. You’re hurting me.” We sit there, face-to-face, staring at each other.
“She doesn’t deserve to live. She should never been born. Don’t tell me I didn’t know, Jennifer. I knew. I knew she bully you. Drowning you in the toilet bowl. It’s true, it sound like something just out of a movie, but I saw, I heard, yet I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry I was a coward. That’s why I kill her. I want to prove to myself I’m not a coward. I just take hair out of your hairbrush and put it there in her room. I was hoping that you could blame it on Jessy, say it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean for you to suffer. I kill her so that you wouldn’t suffer. But it’s having the opposite effect, isn’t?” she laugh. No, it wasn’t just any laugh. A sinister laugh. A laugh that I had come to know over the years has sound so foreign and alien to me.

I ended up guilty as expected. I just wanted to leave this here for the world to know of this. I don’t really blame Carrie. I’m grateful. I haven’t talk to Jessy either. She hasn’t been around. I wouldn’t blame her either. I wanted the world to hear my story once I’m gone.  I’m really in a hurry, so I will be leaving now. Maybe, if I wasn’t born, maybe there wouldn’t be so much suffering. Maybe. If only I know.