There once was a girl all in blue...

There once was a girl all in blue, who lived at the end of my street. Blonde ringlets curled stopping beside her rose red lips. Her eyes as light as the snow that fell down in the winter time. The dark blue ruffles of her dress fanned out falling just above her knees, and the sleeves ruffled about her wrist. Black stockings covered her legs and black lace clung to her throat. Her cheeks were often pink and wind worn, while her ringlets lay perfectly in place. Her name was Lucy and she saw everything but never spoke and I always wondered why. She was private and shy never really having any friends. She was new, from out of town.  Months passed and she still never spoke. The teachers claimed she was brilliant did everything by the book. She never talked to me, but I hung out around her often. We would walk home together, listen to music, I would read to her, or we would often do our homework at my place until around 4 when she would have to go home. Six months after she moved in at the old house at the end of the block, children began to go missing. One by one the kids in my class began to disappear. A strict set of rules was shortly established, kids would go home in pairs or with parents. No one was to go out all alone. Yet still we dropped like flies. Suddenly everyone began pointing fingers, blaming everyone. No one trusted anybody anymore, everyone became suspicious and she was often blamed the most. When kids would throw rocks at her, she would never point fingers or name names, even when the teachers asked. I did notice however that slowly but surely her grades were dropping, work wasn't being turned in or sometimes wasn't even done. She started to struggle more and more in class and when I offered to help tutor her all I got was a shake of her head. The police ran on several leads, but still came up cold. Six months after children started to go missing, and the cases had been left unsolved, I noticed that Lucy was now failing all of her classes.  She never came over, we didn't listen to music, or do our homework together and we never hung out outside of class anymore. She would leave right after school, go home and wouldn't leave until school the next day. I thought I understood why at the time. I thought she was scared, that she didn't want to disappear like the other kids, that she would come around, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I remember the only words Lucy ever spoke to me. She came to school one day, and we walked home afterwards, I thought things were going back to normal, that we would get to hang out again. We did our homework until 4 and as I was walking her to the door she turned to me and smiling and told me "Thank You" before she left. At the time I didn't know why she had thanked me. All I knew is that the next day she wasn't in class. I thought maybe she was sick, maybe she just didnt feel good. I remember hearing sirens that night, I remember walking outside while it was still dark, and seeing so many police cars outside Lucy's. I remember running so fast trying to see if she was okay. I remember her father being shoved into the back of a police car and I remember seeing the ambulance and seeing Lucy's still body being loaded up. I remember the seeing rows of black bags lined up in the driveway. I didn't know what it meant back then. The one thing I remember the clearest though is Lucy's funeral. I recieved a book that day. it was her Diary, and inside were letters that she had addressed to me. It told of how scared she was, of how she knew what her father was, of what he did. She wrote of how powerless she felt, and how I made her feel so safe.  The hardest one to read though was the last one. She had written it the day she died. It told of how I had given her the strength to do the right thing, and of how she was planning on taking her own life where her father hid the bodies of the kids he killed. Her father loved her so much and when he found her he called 911 before trying to move her. The police had found drops of blood that he failed to clean up and found what she died trying to reveal. There once was a girl all in blue, who lived at the end of my street.