10 | R

THE EIGHTH LETTER—and conjunctly the last two letters as well— took more time to arrive at their destinations. It wasn't until the Saturday after Meridian Kohl had made amends with Yasmin Asghar that the letters resumed their scheduled route of delivery.

This time, the receiver was different.

Unlike the previous recipients, it may have been a rather shocking sight that such a girl could have known Serena given how vastly different the both of them were. The receiver could have been the devil's archnemesis for her character rivalled his to the bone, yet even that didn't seem to bother her.

The girl didn't care much for anybody except herself, some—many—called her self-centered or uncaring, inhumane even, but they didn't bother to get to know her. Just like they didn't bother to get to know Serena, judging her based on the rumours.

Diana Nethel had a facade that she wore like it was her lifeline. Her facade was a shield for her, her defense mechanism to hide parts of herself that she didn't want exposed for the fear of being manipulated by those she trusted.

Her cruelty was a result of society. No one is born evil, no one is born with hatred flowing in their veins, no one. The only thing that causes anyone to change is society's standards.

And in Diana's opinion, why change when everyone seemed to be fixated on forming their own opinions of you based on rumours?

Diana Nethel, Oaksville's very own resident mean girl, was the recipient of the antepenultimate letter.

***

"DIANA! ARE YOU going to the sick party Seth Naifeh's throwing?" came the excited voice of Diana's neighbour Marie as she propped herself up against the fence that separated their houses.

Diana glanced up languidly at her neighbour, Marie, from her position by the pool where she was currently sun tanning. Tilting her head to the side analytically, her sunglasses tipped down ever so slightly as she spoke.

"Seth Naifeh? Hosting a party?"

Marie bobbed her head so intensely in response that for a brief moment, it seemed as if her head itself would bob right off.

Diana was more concerned with the fact that she would need to give a witness statement to the police rather than the well-being of her neighbour. She didn't consider Marie to be a friend of hers, Diana Nethel wasn't someone who had friends.

No, she made allies and enemies; never those in between. Never friends.

Friends were a myth. Friends only ever existed to use you, to hurt you.

Already her mindset on that subject spoke volumes in terms of Diana's character. Diana Nethel was the epitome of a cliched affluent mean girl. One would have predicted that Diana Nethel would have been alone most of the time because of her as a result of her mean-girl complex yet this seemed to be the opposite.

Like Regina George, Diana was almost never alone, a trail of followers and 'popularity-chasers' clung to her and were with her every second of the day but ironically enough, none of them truly knew Diana other than the fact that the girl was swimming in diamonds and was a bitch to everyone.

Yet she still kept them around. For the reputation. A Queen was nothing without a kingdom. She'd much rather be a lonely queen rather than a lone ranger, rather to take the first place than be pushed to the lowest of the high school hierarchy.

Diana contemplated Marie's words. There hadn't been any news of a party in three months, not since— she grimaced as she recalled why. Despite this, her face showed no sign of distress that showcased that she had remembered Serena, the girl who had gone far too soon. She rebuffed Mary's question with another question of her own, maintaining a light and airy voice.

"When is it?"

"It's tonight!"

Diana's eyebrows shot up in noticeable surprise.

"On such short notice?" she inquired. Having a party that hadn't even been advertised for a whole day was definitely peculiar, even for the infamous Seth Naifeh.

Marie shrugged her shoulders. "No idea what he was thinking about the lack of timing but everyone's going to be attending, hell, who wouldn't? It's a Seth Naifeh party!"

Diana felt her lip twitch in amusement. Everyone always said that, as if his name could solve all their problems. Not that she blamed them, Seth Naifeh was notorious for his parties. They got people drunk to the point where no one ever quite remembered lucidly the events that had unfolded the next day—they were that wild.

In spite of Marie's excited tone and justified reason, Diana found herself frowning. On any other occasion, she would have responded with an immediate 'yes' but she couldn't help but think the party sounded strange, queer almost.

Though it was not spoken of, at least not explicitly, it was plainly shown in the ways everyone acted. Everyone was still in mourning. Everyone acted as if they were walking on glass amongst Serena's friends, the school's counseling program was still en route, and more other events and changes that just amplified the fact that things weren't the same anymore.

A party this early didn't make sense. Especially from the perpetrator himself. Something wasn't adding up.

"Well?" Marie prompted after Diana still hadn't responded.

"Don't you find it a bit odd?" she questioned Marie, "That he's hosting a party at this time?"

This time, it was Marie who gave Diana an odd look.

"That's what's got your knickers in a twist? The timing? Forget about the timing Diana, and just live a little."

Diana's temper flared at Marie's mocking words; she nodded her head tightly, dismissing the questions thoughts in her head. The timing of the party was queer but she'd figure it out eventually, however in the meantime, she had a reputation to uphold.

"Well then, when you put it like that, of course." she said curtly as she stood up from her sedentary position on the tanning bench. "I'll go. You need a ride I'm assuming?"

Marie looked sheepish this time, "Yeah, my parents sorta confiscated my license after I accidentally crashed into the front porch last week."

Diana made a slight noise of irritation, of course that was what Marie needed from her, always a ride. However she disguised her irritation as a soft chuckle instead, so as to not draw Marie's own anger to the surface. "Alright then, be ready by 8."

Marie nodded and dropped herself from the fence, heading back to her own house without a backward glance at Diana.

Diana straightened her back, she didn't care that Marie had basically just used her. She was used to it; now all she needed to do was find a dress.

And she had the perfect one in mind.

***

PULLING UP TO the mansion that was Seth Naifeh's house, Diana parked her car as she turned off the ignition of the car, stepping out with an excited Mary in tow.

Tonight, she'd chosen to wear a simple sleek silver-coloured halter dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She had paired it with a pair of diamond earrings, 4-inch heels and her signature beige Chanel purse. Mary was dressed in a pretty flower-patterned dress with neon-pink heels, a rather bold colour choice however Diana had to admit Mary managed to pull the bold choice off.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. Upbeat music could be heard pumping loudly, its sound reverberating throughout the street and stretching far enough to the point that Diana could hear it from where she was at—which was more than three-quarters down the aforementioned house.

The door was wide open when both of them reached the porch, allowing the entry of anybody and everybody who pleased.

Diana scoffed, classic Seth behaviour, she knew that being the only son of a prospering lawyer meant that he could be prodigal with his money, more so given that the mansion's location was gated-and-guarded, but did he not at least want to take some precautions?

Then again, she could come up with two reasons why Seth Naifeh couldn't give a fuck about it. One being was the enormous amount of guests that would swarm his house and plus-ones that those mentioned guests would bring.

Despite being the host, Seth wasn't known for his house-warming skills, he probably wouldn't have wanted to repeatedly greet people as they entered. The second reason she managed to come up with from the years of knowing him was that Seth Naifeh wasn't someone who feared most things and he wouldn't even have cared if an eighty-year-old man entered. In fact, he was probably welcoming a robbery to occur just for the opportunity of witnessing one.

He hadn't been emotionally stable since she met him two years ago when they were both fifteen, a year after the rumoured accident.

As she made her way inside the house, she was immediately attacked with an onslaught of unsolicited greetings.

"Diana! Love the heels!"

"About time Diana!"

"Diana, try this drink!" someone pushed a drink directly into Diana's field of vision. She glared and that was enough for the hand to shamefully slink back to wherever it had come from.

She made as far as another step before someone else came barging along.

"Yo, sick outfit Nethel!" a drunk jock slurred as he attempted to kiss her hand. She snatched it back before he could, looking at him icily. No one touched her without permission— no one. Not after what happened last time.

"Fuck off." she said plainly.

The jock raised his hands in surrender, seemingly apologetic as he ran off to some other place of the house. Diana counted to ten inwardly as she let him go. He wasn't worth ruining her night for.

Amidst all the greetings, her eyes briefly met Seth' who was at the punch bowl, talking to Meiji— a member of his infamous trio— he gave her a raised eyebrow and gestured towards the male she had let go.

She shrugged her shoulders as she mimicked a drinking sign to which he responded with a nod of acknowledgement and head shrug towards the kitchen before turning back to his conversation with Meiji.

Diana rolled her eyes in amused annoyance. She was used to his impetuous attitude but the least he could do was verbally greet the girl he made an agreement with.

When Diana came to Oaksville two years ago, she had met Seth. They had struck up an arrangement, a devil's trade. Devils only made agreements with other devils. But their agreement was different. In return for reaping the benefits of his reputation, Diana would be Seth's eyes and ears for Serena. It didn't cater for any sexual benefits — Diana would never agree to date Seth Naifeh. He had too much baggage which Diana didn't fancy herself to undertake.

Seth and her were akin in many ways. Perhaps that was what attracted them to each other. That, and Diana's brutal honesty. She never lied.

Diana was very well able to forge her own acclaimed path but why would she want to exert the extra effort? Seth was offering everything to her on a silver— no, golden platter—only a fool would refuse.

She never truly understood why Seth wanted to hurt the girl in as many ways as he possibly could yet asked her to look out for the girl. Talk about contradicting actions.

But Diana wasn't a detective, she wouldn't bother to figure out a person's reasons for their actions. No, that required far too much effort.

Diana's logic was simple and straightforward ;

If they did it, they did it.

You crossed someone, you crossed someone.

You want revenge, you get revenge.

You want to remain quiet, you remain quiet.

Some called it twisted but hey, she said it was straightforward, never that it was for the faint of heart nor that it was the right.

Diana wasn't looking for redemption like everybody else in this god-forsaken town was. She was a bitch—and damn was she proud of it. She didn't need people ; they needed her. She used people and they used her, a vicious cycle that she was going to continue for as long as she lived.

There was always a villain in a story but unlike most others who assumed that they were the heroine in their story, Diana knew that she was the antagonist in hers.

She had done her role. Was his eyes and ears for the girl, shadowed her for the duration of two years. How else did anyone think Seth could easily figure out who was threatening Serena?

Her eyes gleamed as she approached the kitchen table where an abundance of different alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages were situated. Perfect.

Diana may have been a minor still, but no one in their town really cared. Underage drinking was a social norm in Oaksville however, their town was stern on the law of 'don't drink-and drive' because the last time someone drove drunk... nothing was ever the same.

After that night, the town's officials had enforced a new law that if one were to drink, even just one drink, they would have to hail a cab back home or stay overnight at the host's house. The ones who broke the law were immediately sent to a six-month detention centre.

She started to brew her own concoction, having learnt her lesson the last time she had someone else help her to make one. Throwing together a final drink made up from a random assortment of drinks on the table whose complex foreign names she didn't care to learn to pronounce, she threw her head back as she downed the glass.

She knew whatever she had made was strong, from the way the alcohol felt as it burned its way down her throat but instead of the pain, she focused on the way it caused her to feel.

To feel as though she were on top of the world, it was temporary bliss for a head that never was quiet. At times, Diana felt that her own mind was plotting against her, constantly scheming up ways her so-called 'friends' could betray her or double-cross her— the alcohol kept it quiet, because the alcohol stringed together all her thoughts into one, even if it was temporary, a single thought was more than enough.

She had lost Marie as soon as she had entered the house, the girl wandering off to company that wasn't Diana. Diana scoffed bitterly, even Marie—someone who painted herself as a saint and people pleaser—wasn't someone who stuck around people who she didn't have a use for.

Swatting away wandering hands, she made her way onto the rooftop barely stumbling as she punched in a specific permutation of digits. As she settled on sitting on the cemented rooftop, she dangled her feet dangerously over the ledge. She wasn't scared of falling.

Often, it was only people who had things to lose that were scared of falling. Diana had nothing to lose. Nothing to fear.

Enjoying the cool breeze, her ears pricked up as she heard footsteps approaching. She frowned. The rooftop was a private place that few had access to, Seth had started to bar people from entering after realising that some drunk-head could possibly wander out here and fall to his death. Now, only a select few could enter.

She swung her head back to look at the newcomer—speak of the devil, it was Seth himself. He was at the door, hands in his pockets as he walked up to her.

"The sky's wonderful isn't it?" she murmured absentmindedly as she stared up at the sky lit by the moon and scattered stars glimmering ever-so softly in the vast pitch-black background.

He didn't reply, didn't tell her to lift her feet back up from the ledge, didn't do anything. Instead, he placed a piece of paper with a glass of liquor down silently next to her before vanishing back into his house.

She sighed as she took the drink off the ground first, she trusted Seth enough to know that the arabian-male wouldn't trick her into anything. It hadn't been the first time he'd caught her out on the rooftops anyways.

Seth knew Diana came to his house for privacy, the party girl image was just an illusion, a mirage that she upkept for the sake of her reputation. The rooftop was one of the places that she disappeared to whenever he held a party, aided with a bottle of liquor, it was the perfect place.

She took a sip of the glass as she glanced down at the paper he had handed her.

There were only two words written on it, her name.

Diana Nethel

She considered throwing it down from the balcony she was currently on but then she thought better of it.

Seth Naifeh gave it to her, there had to be a good reason for that. Rolling her eyes, she tore the letter open with one perfectly polished nail and began reading.

***

DEAR DIANA NETHEL,

Hello. I would say it's a pleasure to finally meet you but considering our circumstances—given that I am not actually meeting you nor am I physically present with you— I'll spare us the pleasantries. Regardless of whether we've formally met, you've heard of me, seen me at parties on a specific date and I know for a fact that you know who I am — you have been shadowing me for two years after all.

Diana breathed out, a breath of shock and surprise. Damn, she hadn't been as discreet as she thought. Serena Wilson, the dead girl, had written her a letter.

What were the odds?

This letter may come as a shock—or not, I don't really know—because we barely knew each other. You only knew the basic details of me ; my name and my reputation. You could've chosen to dig further yet you didn't, guess that means your mind is a one-way track, solely focused on its objective.

Likewise to that, I'll do the same in keeping this letter short and bite the bullet straight on.

I wrote this letter to talk to you. Think of it as a one-sided conversation because I can't be having this talk with you in real life, I don't think I even have the guts to talk to you not because I fear you but rather because our paths are so intertwined, that we are so similar to each other, that I know I would struggle to articulate myself in front of you.

I know what you're thinking, how can we be so alike? That's what I hope to be explaining in this letter. I choose letter-writing as an attempt to solidify and arrange my thoughts and my emotions. This letter is purely meant for you, Diana. Make no mistake on that subject.

How are we alike, Diana? Well for starters, we're both victims of sexual assault although for me, it was only an attempted assault. ( which, I guess was somewhat of a good thing? )

Diana felt her heart plummet, and when she said plummet, it fucking plummeted. Sobering up immediately, she re-read the previous written line, the words didn't change, not in the slightest. There they were, penned down clearly and explicitly, leaving one big question in her head— how did she know?

Diana hadn't told anyone. Not even Seth or her parents, so how had Serena Wilson figured it out? And who else knew?

To put your mind at ease, only I know of your assault. No one else does. I know...because I saw him take you to that horrific room and in the aftermath when Jake raped you, I saw you crying. Tears streaming down your face, not fully taking in what happened to you but at the same time knowing that something horrendous had happened.

I made up my mind that night. I took to helping you get out of the house.

My heart goes out to you, Diana, really. I truly wish I had been able to help you sooner because maybe that would've made everything so much different. If I had taken the initiative to follow you to the room, taken the drink instead of you — there are so many ways I could've changed the way your night could've gone. I've tried to come to terms that what has happened has happened and as such, I can only offer you this pathetic attempt of an apology :

I'm sorry I was so late. I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't help you.

I'm sorry that I didn't stop him because I thought that he was a good person. Naive me didn't believe that any human could be capable of doing such things, that it's like a myth, something we only read about in newspapers but I know again, that won't take back anything that you've suffered.

I'm sorry.

I knew you wouldn't remember me the next day because he had given you something strong that night, to permanently keep your mind in a fuzz, unable to ever clearly decipher what had truly happened. I left you a letter detailing the unfortunate incident of what had happened. I told you to contact Seth, which you clearly did given Jake never showed up to school for the next month and when he did, it was with a cast — which, by the way, accept my sincere congratulations on that.

We both know he deserved it. Give him a kick in the dick for me will you? After all, he did try to assault me too.

Diana froze. Jake tried to assault Serena? Jake was many things but he clearly was thinking with his dick over his head at that point if he had tried to assault the girl who Seth had told everyone to leave alone.

But that isn't something that holds a deep meaning to this letter, what is important Diana, is that one person shouldn't change your entire outlook on life. Don't give him that power.

I see who you are Diana, the real you. Your rich girl image really isn't as strong as you believe. I get that you're scared to bare your feelings outwardly again, because it makes you vulnerable, more vulnerable than ever but don't you see that your facade is destroying you? Putting up a facade is always so much more work than just showing who you truly are.

I know you're scared, that you paint yourself as a bitch when the light comes on but when the lights are off, all you wish for is to be loved.

Don't cheat yourself, don't rob yourself of the beautiful experience of having friends because of him. You've already voluntarily lost a few years of your life by lying to yourself, lost those few years that you could've spent making real friends, are you willing to lose more?

Be yourself Diana, and I promise you, you will be rewarded. If you don't believe me, just look at Seth. He's an undeniably good example to choose from ; he's already shown that he has a soft spot for you, by caring for you and by helping you, even if you don't really see it yet. That boy has an odd way of showing he cares but trust me when I say he does for you.

There's so much more to it than just him, show to others that you're a good person, like how I know you are. Soon enough, you'll have a tight-knit group of people that will shower you with real praise, real compliments and so much more. Not those popularity-chaser freaks but rather, real people who will love you, flaws and all.

Don't get me wrong, my friends were amazing to me. It was my own decision to take the leap— there was nothing wrong with them, only me. Don't take my death as an excuse that friends are useless because they aren't.

Life is always better with friends, Diana. Real friends are one in a million, you don't need many but only a few. A few that care for you can make life so much more worth living.

That is my lesson and advice for you.

SINCERELY,

Serena Wilson

As Diana read the final words on the letter, she felt a smile curling up onto her face.

Who would've thought it'd take a letter from a girl who she barely knew to see through her?

"She's done it again," Diana thought wryly to herself, "Change the lives of people she barely knew."

Diana Nethel now fully understood why people were so heartbroken over the girl's death. She knew what people meant when they say she changed them because an action as simple as a letter showed Diana that Serena was beautiful— inside and out. She saw people for who they truly were and that alone was something many could never achieve.

Her letter was simple, yet it touched Diana in ways she never knew was possible. She finally knew what it felt to have her life touched by the girl and it was nothing short of riveting and rejuvenating.

She raised her glass in a toast,

"To you, Serena Wilson, wherever you may be."

Downing the rest of the drink, she set aside the glass next to her, traces of a real smile adorning her face as she looked to the sky, thanking Serena for touching her life and causing her to see reality—

Life was not just limited to one experience.