I. Apocalypse

From the poetry diary of the late Ms. Bennett:

I’ve always thought how interesting it would be
To live in a world where the dead could speak.
Man, to think there’d be a lot to say.
Who what, where, when and why would be answered
With no questions gone astray.
Unfortunately though, the dead can’t speak.
Except in this case of course
Where I give you one little mystique.
For on the eve of my sixteenth birthday
I, Lauren Bennett, was brutally murdered
By the person of course I least suspected.
My catastrophic death struck those in Florence so highly residents wondered,
"Who would ever want to leave our precious Laurie so nearly dismembered?"
I was after all, St. Mary high's perfect little angel, just as they remembered. Or was I?
Not everything was like it seemed in this quaint little town despite its peaceful eye.
My five friends and I did unforgivable things, wicked sins that in my part turned deadly.
And now, three years later, my killer has set out for sights much more redly.
For those who were around me when I was alive are the next targets.
Something I suggest neither ever forget.
Because those acts committed all when they were younger
Each deserves a punishment just like mine, perhaps even rougher.
This all began with one single tragic death.
And now, it must end with another who’ll be left with no breath.
The question now is who will it be?
Well I can say with certainty it definitely won’t be me.