Her name was perfect.
She wore the same outfit every day at school. A black shirt with an olive green Leo symbol on it, and black skinny jeans.
She made it look good. She made it look perfect.
They always walked to classes together, ate lunch together, and did sports in gym together.
They were tighter than ever possible. They were perfect friends.
Her name was Nepeta Leijon, and she had all As.
She favored animal science, art, and social studies (specifically wars).
Her grades in other classes were still As.
Her grades were perfect.
In love with no one other than ___ ___.
She loved ___ like no other, because they understood her.
She invited them on trips and stuff, with her best friend.
She trusted them with her life, because no one else could, not even herself.
Her love was perfect.
She wasn't popular enough, so she sought out help by the two most popular girls in the school, knowing how gullible she was.
They told her to yell and argue with her parents, so she did.
They told her to slit her wrists in front of ___, so she did.
They told her, to achieve ultimate perfection, she must kill herself in front of ___.
So she did.
She stabbed herself nine times in the heart in front of ___, for the one purpose of perfection.
Her name was Nepeta Leijon, and you are at her funeral.
You look down at the casket and heave a sigh, remembering the good time the two of you spent.
At the flower placement, you set down a nice bouquet of olive and black roses, stifling tears.
But you knew that Nepeta, at this moment, if she were here, would think that they were