Leah wore a nail polish called indigo tears. Those long, sharp nails were her claws, and she was happy to use them.

She was the perfect package of beautiful and smart. Her parents wealth, good looks, and money got her popularity. Leah was the type of girl you either wish you were or wish you were dating.

When we were small, we were friends but as her popularity grew I was left behind. I wasn't bitter in the beginning, but over the years I began to hate her. She had left me in the shadows while she danced in the light.

It was unfair, but life is unfair, death isn't fair either. Death comes to us all whether we are ready for it or not.

Leah fought back. The others were easy, but Leah bit and scratched the hell out of me. She acted like a wild animal; I admired her will to want to live.

At one point during our struggle, I thought she would win, but while Leah was vicious, she lacked that killer instinct. They say I stabbed her over thirty times; I only remember ten.

Killing Leah was fun, but more than that it was like I had killed the person I used to be. The little girl who baked cupcakes, cried when she got bullied, who had a unicorn teddy bear, and wore yellow ducky pyjamas. All of it erased when I took away Leah's life.

I was fully free. The real me that been buried deep inside me since birth.

Leah's blood wouldn't come out of my clothes. I had to burn my favourite jeans and T-shirt in the end.

Did you know I was still in the house when her parents got home?

I hid behind a curtain while they found her body, I'll never forget her mother's scream. It was half human, half animal.

I liked her mother. She used to give me cherry flavoured sweets, and hugs. Warm hugs that made me feel safe. I regret the pain I caused her, but not killing Leah. It's conflicting.

I slipped out the window while they were cradling her bloody, lifeless body. 

I messed up with Leah. My fingerprints were all over her house, DNA under her fingernails. It was clear to me later that night that sooner or later the police would link me to Leah's death. Some smart cookie would figure out I'd killed the others.

I knew my next kill had to matter; it had to be the person who hurt me the most.