The killer girls club

Chapter 1- Annika

They're dead.
All 5 of them are dead, and we did it

Isolation is a funny thing. Your alone, and typically people hate it, normally use the word in relation to depression. Personally, I thrive alone, it fills a sort of motivation in me, though my therapist would describe it as, 'endless anger and rage.'
I don't really see the difference.
I've been seeing Miss Gian, the school counsellor, since I was 12. It wasn't a choice I made out of free will.
My dad died the year before, not that anyone knew that, so I was going through a bit of... phase. Started smoking, drinking between classes, taking drugs, selling drugs, but ultimately ended up getting snitched on by Ellie Sampson (Captain of my house) for smoking outside her room, because she had 'asthma', like fucking grow a pair!
I was faced with suspension and 6 weeks of detention, but since they couldn't reach my parents to tell them to take home, they just extended my detention from 6 to 8 weeks. Added on to my now extended detention, I also got 2 sessions a week with Miss Gian. Which of course were after school, so I wouldn't miss out on my, already lacking academics. Meaning, the therapy basically cause me to need more therapy. Lessons from 8:40 to 3:00. Surf practice from 3:00 to 4:00, plus the drive back, so 4:15 when back at school. And therapy from 4:20 to 5:20, bus home from 5:30 to 6:45. So my bloody day ends, another fucking hour later. Plus when I get home I have to cook dinner, help my brother with his home work and by the time that's done, I sleep. And that's on repeat till Friday. Even then I'm basically running deliveries all weekend. Which is why, a time hogging therapist is not going to fix my problems.

Jan 17, 2018
The date my dad died. I was 11, my brother, Milo was 7, we were playing Marco-Polo in the pool when we heard our mother's scream.
Tripping wet, I jumped out the pool and wrapped my towel around me with Milo closely following behind, almost kneeling down on the floor, hiding behind my back. Then turning my head and pushing him backwards, pointing him towards the chairs by the pool. I knew that it wasn't gonna be good and he didn't need to see it first hand. Running inside the house, leaving Milo by the pool, to find mum covered in blood,
our dad's blood.
He'd hit his head on the side of the counter after drinking too much, we called 000 but by the time we reached the hospital,
He was dead.
I was never going to smile, laugh or hug him again, but the fact that made it worse, did just didn't feel real. He was there one minute and gone the next. And he'd had a drink problem for years, but I guess that's the problem. We didn't worry because it became normal, our life.

My life went on a downwards spiral after that, well more like my mother's life, which essentially was the catalyst for my downfall.
It was okay at for the first 2 weeks, she was still a good, supportive mum, but at the funeral, I think something broke in her.
First it was one BOTTLE of wine at the reception, then the 6 other she had every other day.
At that point it was pretty clear she wasn't going to be the most responsible parent, I mean if you count losing all jobs she got in under a week or having a new guy over every night responsible, then sure.
Sadly, this meant I had to step and be the parent for my brother, meaning I had to get him up and ready for school, make breakfast and pay school fees for both him and I at age 11. Though the school fees one was optional, there were 2 reasons he had to stay in private school, one, now he's already been in private school for 3 years, he's got a proper posh accent and would get the shit beat out of him at state school, two, I want him to have a good education, to do better then me and to do better then mum.
Going back to our witch of a mother, she ended up leaving us when I was 14.
On the morning of, I woke up, thinking I'd find her on the couch with her new guy for the night. When she wasn't there I checked in her room, wasn't there. I hoped she'd come back within a few hours, but nope.
Belief me, I wanted to call the police, but as soon as they got wind of a 14 and 10 year old alone with no adult, we'd be separated, and there was no way in hell I was letting that happen.
Milo was all I had.

Dec 3, 2023
Now age 16 and broken up for the summer, normally I'd go home with Milo and celebrate with our annual Harry Potter movie marathon, but he was in summer school this year. Turns out, when you don't hand in any of your work and call my teacher a bitch, that's what happens, which 'apparently' he wasn't aware of. So I was gonna be alone up until Dec 23, so out of desperation, I signed up for the surf trip. Which I kinda of needed. Being a school by the coast in Australia we had a surf team, which I actually wanted to join, kind of out-of-character of me, but oh well?
They were all there.
Maeve, Kathleen, Sabrina, Abby and Cassie.
I'd known Maeve, Kathleen and Sabrina since year 7, but we just never really saw eye to eye. Maeve was an over-worrier and extremely sensitive, Kathleen was too busy shoving compliments up her own ass to even know i exist, and Sabrina... totally honest not sure, she's pretty cool.
Abby had moved from Melbourne to Adeline and Cassie moved from London to Adeline, because she wanted what she called, 'a fresh start.' Shame because I could have now this year without her perpetual whining, but I guess she had her reasons, we all did.

Everyday was the same, brekkie 7:30-8:30, surf drills 8:45-11:00, Lunch for age 13 to 15 at 11:30-12:30 and lunch for 16 to 18 at 12:30-13:30, then more surf drills till 15:00. But lunch was always the most memorable, not just because you'd to watch the younger years squirming to get out as you enter, but because all 6 of them o