I watch her fingers rake through dark, soft hair, so soft I can almost feel it beneath my own fingers. I imagine that it's my fingers and my hands in her hair and I can imagine her smiling, arching her neck slightly, like a cat being stroked. A shaky hand, my own, will trail lightly over the hair, so like my own and yet so unlike it. My own will feel greasy and dull as I touch hers. I'll feel how soft it is, how lightly it falls between my fingers and I'll smell the fruity scent of her shampoo, just as I can now, but stronger. It will all feel wonderful, and everything will be so her.

In my mind, I wind my fingers through her locks, curling the hair around and tugging on it sharply, waiting to see her wince. Then, gathering more handfuls, I pull again, hearing her cry out but continuing. Stop it, I think. Stop squirming and enjoy it. Stop being so good and so pure. Stop grooming yourself like that. Stop it. I'm fascinated as her delicate hands smooth down her hair, checking that it looks nothing less than perfect before she lets her hands drop. A self-conscious glance around the room, ignoring my eyes on her. She doesn't want to look vain. She never could. Despite all that she has, she doesn't realise how lucky she has it. She spoke of problems with her aunt, but she doesn't get it. She doesn't understand how easy she has it. I hate her for it. But she's my friend and I can't hate her.

At least, I thought she was my friend. Friends would help each other, wouldn't they. Friends would care about each other and not leave each other out in the cold. Why does she push me away like that? If she needed me, I'd be there. But she will need me, and I won't help her, and then she'll realise how much she needed me. It will be too late and I hope she remembers this, all of it, as she waits to die.

Lana had always seems so perfect, everything about her, but I know now its just not her. The idealistic sweetness that she seems to project isn't her. No one is who they seem, but her most of all. I could do a better job of being her. I deserve it, all of it. All that she has should be mine. It is mine and it will be mine. Soon.