E's Diary.

A diary.

A fricking diary.

I went through a whirlwind of emotions and feelings and whatnot for a diary.

Wow.

Disgruntled, I smacked it hard. I had to.

Then I opened it.

"E's

Diary."

Written on the page on right.

Great who the frick is E? Markiplier? I sniggered at my own joke. No, it's Einstein.

God, I was really funny, wasn't I?

I sniggered again and turned the diary page.

The second page of diary - written on right again-was empty except for the little blank at the bottom, beneath which 'your name here' was written.

Hmm, I will write it after reading the diary.

Flipping the page, I turned my gaze to the third page, which was surprise surprise, written on the right page again.

"If you seriously thought about writing your name there, then I suggest you to keep the diary from where you picked it up, you dumb blonde bitch."

Now, my dad had brown hair and mama was a redhead, I had my dad's hair but the aforementioned insult had me blinking tears.

Why? Well, because I actually considered writing my name there.

I wasn't even going to write my full name, I was just going to write Fiona 'Not-Shrek's-wife'. I had wrote it in my application for college. Even the intern who wrote me back the acceptance letter was amused by it.

Well, the letter said so.

And no, mama does not know that i wrote that as my name. She would cut me into bits and pieces and then feed me to the crows.

Sighing, I returned my gaze to the third page.

"If you chalked it up from the place mentioned in the poem, hello there and I applaud you for your courage.

I will introduce myself.

I call myself the Enchantress.

Why? Because I am irresistible.

Well, that came out cocky.

I will cut to the chase, I am a killer." - I froze. This has to be a joke, right?

I looked again and -

"No, that is not a joke." - huh - "I kill people. And no. I wouldn't tell you my real name. The reason I am writing this is because I want attention. Not the bad kind though.

You see, I was always the 'strange' girl. The weird girl who was always the center of attention but not actually given attention, you getting my point? Yes, I was the 'freak'. No one wanted to do anything with me." - I cackled evilly. Imagine having no friends.

That's what you get to for calling me a stupid blonde bitch even when I am not even blonde. Yes, I was salty.

And where did that stereotype even come from? The valedictorian in my last school was a blonde girl and she was a full on nerd.

"I am writing the diary for one purpose only. I want attention. I want it because I've never had it. I want to feel what it is like when everyone knows you. I want to feel all that.

And no, I am not saying that people would like it if I tell everyone that I kill people.

But, People tend to love villains when they know their story and hate them when they don't know their story. It's human nature. We love someone we think we've known our whole lives even if they are not "morally" good or are evil (to say the least) because we believe we know what they have been through. It connects us to them.

And that's why I am telling you my story. About my whole life.

I know you will not fall in love with me and all that, but you would not hate me. That, I am sure of.

And no, I will not write down my appearance either, incase you turn out to be a nut job cop, and please do not be a cop, I want the good attention first. So, no I will not let you know what I look like. Except for one thing. I will let you know about it because it is one of the major reason why I kill.

I have heterochromia. Yes, my eyes are differently colored. My right eye is green in color and the left is blue.

While I am writing this all, I might as well mention that I hear voices in my head and speak to them.

But that does not make me weird. I just hear voices in my head and I answer them because it would be rude if I don't. I am hearing them right now while I am writing this.

Let me introduce you to them.

The one speaking the loudest to me right now is Mr. Know-it-all. I call him that because he always tries to act like he knows everything. Like right now, he is telling me not to write everything here. He is warning me you will go babbling on whatever you read here. But you will not, right?

No.

You won't.

You can't."

I paused, uncomfortable. Was it just me or did it really seem like a threat? Or was I just being paranoid? She did say she killed which was of course a joke.

Errr, right?

Oh God.

"I am sorry if those words seemed frightening. Of course I would want you to let everyone know about me, after you are done reading the diary of course.

Like I said, I don't have many friends and I don't socialize much except for when I am preying." - why did I get a bad feeling when she said the word 'prey' -

"The one in the background compelling me to keep on going with my story and to not let the 'Nerd' convince me otherwise, is Ms. Jolly. She is way too supportive and kind. Well, she's the only kind person in my life so I have nothing much to compare to." - now that's just sad -

"She is telling me that I should let the world know who am I, what do I do and how do I do that. I agree with her. I should get the recognition I deserve.

The last one, the one who's always quite in these conversations but always speaks up at the times when I need her the most is Ms. Enchantress. She is just... irresistible. And if you do something that she doesnt like or have something she wants, she'll take it. Even if she has to kill you for it.

That was my introduction. I know I am one strange person but you will get to know the real me when you will read this diary".

I barked out a laughter.

Wow. That was something.

I just read about a crazy lady who said that she was a killer. And talked to herself. And gave those 'someones' in her head names. Wow. That's crazy.

She's not... well, crazy but she certainly needs therapy, doesn't she?

What if this was a prank? What if someone thought 'hey, let's prank Fiona because of how dim she is'? Hmm. I narrowed my eyes. If that was the case, I would read the whole thing. All the while praying that it wouldn't result in PTSD.

After all that, I needed some chocolate. And cinnamon rolls. Food.

And if what was written here actually true, then I officially was in a very very very deep merde.

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