My name is Ivy. Ivy Jay. I had a nice life. Parents loved me. Wonderful boyfriend. Money. I had the most wonderful life anyone could ever have.
But someone thought that I should`t have it. On March 18, at the age of 15, I was murdered.
MARCH 18:
"Mom! Have you seen my wallet?" I yelled down the stairs to the basement. "Did you check the kitchen counter?" she yelled back. I walked into the kitchen.
As I reached for the wallet sitting of the cool marble counter, I felt a sharp, bursting pain in my spine. I screamed out and crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain.
My mother came rushing upstairs. "Oh my god! Ivy!" was the last thing I heard before plunging into the darkness that was death.
MARCH 24:
"We pray that the spirit of young Ivy is taken into the pearly gates of heaven." said the priest clad in his robes and white collar.
As I looked at my body laying in the coffin, I cried. A young teenager lying on a bed of silk. Flowing black hair, beautifully pale cheeks, and pink lips. I was looking at myself. Dead.
The shock was too much when the box was lowered and eventually covered in earth. Everyone left. I still couldn`t move. I knew I was murdered. Then everything blurred away.
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