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September 23
8 : 46 p.m.


Police forces swarm around the cool, breezy streets of Cascade Pkwy. There's been an incident, no. Four incidents, on this dreaful night. Four teenage girls dead, a thin slice across their throats, a note clasped in each girl's pale blueviolet hand. It reads:
I told you this wasn't over. But now it is.
You think it's funny making someone's life miserable?
You think it's hysterical to see a weak girl cry?
Well who gets the last laugh now?
Ha ha.
I think I do.
But I can't blame you for laughing, because truthfully, seeing you die was ******** halarious.

The note smells of lavender, and has a black heart scribbled on the bottom right of the page. It's typed, so no leads on the killer. No leads as to why, nothing. But little do they know, the real killer dwells just four blocks away, in a small, worn-out, two bedroom apartment. And little do they know is that very moment-as they speak- she's watching along with everyone else, a devious glint in her eyes.


This isn't my role-play, but it belongs to a good friend of mine. I would hate to see it die, so just give it a look. At the moment she needs two girls and three guys, please read the rules before you join. Thankies!