"No, I'm not okay!" snapped a short, dark girl with tears in her eyes. "I'm not okay, Katie, and I'll never be okay again!" She let out a sob and slammed the door. Turning around, she collapsed on her bed, weeping.

"Jasmine?" said her friend's voice. "Please come out, I'm sorry! It was stupid of me to ask, I know you're not okay." Jasmine didn't reply, only crying harder. "Jas? Come on, let me in."

"Go away," said Jasmine in between sobs. She heard footsteps coming, and then Katie's voice.

"I don't know what to do, Mrs. Evans! She won't come out!"

"It's okay, Katie," said Jasmine's mother quietly. "Go home now. I'll have her call you when she's ready." Katie must have nodded, for there was not a response, and she heard to sets of footsteps going down the stairs, and then she heard the front door open and shut.

Jasmine cried herself to sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful. When she awoke to the sun shining through her window, and the sound of birds singing, Jasmine sat up, and almost smiled before remembering the events of the day before. She threw herself back on the bed, covering her head with a pillow to block out the birdsong and sunlight.

It didn't seem fair, that Jasmine woke up to sunshine streaming through her window, while Jessica would never again wake up.

Jessica was Jasmine's twin sister and best friend in the world. And yesterday, someone had murdered her.

Of course, the police wouldn't say it was murder. Suicide, they said. Jasmine could not deny it had been Jessica's own hand that had cut her wrists. Jasmine had found her sister on the floor of her room, her dark eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling, crimson blood even more so against her pale, lifeless skin. Her long ebony hair had been fanned out from her head, a sharp contrast to her white skin and the white carpet on which she lay, the carpet stained with her blood.

It was still murder, though, even though it had been Jessica's hand clutching the razor with which she had taken her own life. It had been Alan Davis who had murdered Jessica, when he asked for the necklace.

Alan had been Jessica's boyfriend, and everyone knew they planned to get married as soon as they left school—two months away-though they were not officially engaged. He had given her, though, a silver necklace, the pendant an intricate sliver rose with the inscription A J on the back. It had been his promise to her, and she had been deeply in love.

But then he went away for Spring Break to visit his grandmother in Florida. Most girls would have worried about their boyfriend by himself in Florida over Spring Break, but Jessica didn't. She thought she knew Alan, knew he would never do anything to hurt her.

She was wrong. While on break, Alan met a girl named Jennie. A tall, tanned blonde girl with lots of curves, but very few IQ points.

When Alan came back from Florida, he had called Jessica and told her to meet him at their favorite café that night. She had been anxious to go, to see her boyfriend after a week apart. She had asked Jasmine's opinion on the outfit she was wearing, and Jasmine had grinned and said, "Don't be silly, he'll love you even if you wear a garbage bag!"

She wished she could say it again. She wished she could have that moment back.

Jasmine had gone to meet Alan, happy and excited.

She had come back crying. She had run up the stairs to her bedroom, locked herself in, and refused to speak. Jasmine had sat outside the door, trying to console her sister, for an hour. Then the sobs she had heard from within had stopped.

"Jessica?" she remembered asking, "Are you okay?" There was no response. Jasmine had begun to pound upon the door, wondering what had happened to her sister. There was still no response from Jessica.

Jasmine had run downstairs and grabbed the key to the room, her breath coming in short gasps, her heart pounding. Upon reaching the locked door, her trembling hands had inserted the key and turned it.

She had opened the door to find her sister's body. She remembered screaming until her throat was raw, and then hearing her father's footsteps pounding up the stairs when he arrived home from work.

That was all she remembered. She had awoken two hours later in her room, to find her friend Katie sitting next to the bed, and hearing voices downstairs of what must have been police or paramedics or something—she wasn't sure.

Jessica should not have died. Jasmine was certain that she should have been the one to die. Jessica was smarter, prettier, kinder, happier-better. Everyone loved Jessica. She brightened everyone's world, while Jasmine seemed to darken it. Jasmine wished she had died.

Maybe Jessica would have wanted her to live, but she couldn't live without Jessica.

She took her head out from under the pillow, stood up as if in a daze, and walked into the bathroom.

She pulled out her razor, held it to her wrist, and that was all there was.

A/N: I don't really like this story. Suicide, drama, and lots of emotions. I wouldn't like it if I read it, but I hope you like it. It's not something I've written recently.