Well, this was officially the end. This is the day that I'd take any type of pain or consequence just so I wouldn't have to move. I didn't feel like having to start all over again, finding new friends, and reapplying my social status in a new city. This was the day that my parents were forcing me, against my will, to move with my older sister, Tiffany, on the beaches of Miami. It's that I didn't like the suburbs or anything, it's just that I have a lot of memories that I want to hold on to that are all linked here, good and bad. I'm really going to miss Atlanta and all my friends that I'm leaving behind. When I asked my parents why they were making me leave, they just said, "It's for the best." I automatically knew what they meant.

About three months ago, I was in a serious relationship with an amazing guy named Bryce, who meant the world to me. We'd done everything together and told each other everything. Of course nobody gets everything they want without paying a price. The price I had to pay was the only thing I'd ever want, Bryce. I don't really like to go into detail but to keep it short and simple, he was taken from me and from everyone else who loved him, unnecessarily. The night of our Homecoming dance, which was held outside in the school plaza, a car came speeding by and the next thing I heard were gunshots and everybody fell to the floor. Then, there was a stabbing pain in my forearm and ribs, and everything went black. I woke up in a hospital bed two days later with my mother's head on my lap. When I stretched my arms and grunted from the pain, she gasped and looked up with bloodshot red eyes. My mom didn't say anything to me; she just hugged me and bawled like there was no tomorrow. She called my dad up from the cafeteria and he just about did the same. Neither of them would tell me what happened. They also didn't answer my question when I asked them why Bryce wasn't there with me, they only exchanged sad glances.

It wasn't until my dad pulled me by my elbow down the hall, that I knew it was all going downhill. There was a man wearing gloves and a dreary green apron who directed us to the other side of the room where there was a sheet covering something on a metal table. The man gave my dad a warning look as he started pulling the sheet back. My dad tightened his grip on my shoulders as the sheet was pulled back. Bryce was lying there on a table in front of me, still, dead. I sat there sobbing on Bryce's once-warm chest until my dad pulled me back and restrained when I fought back at him. The Doctor explained that the bullet that grazed the left side of my chest, went straight into Bryce's heart, and they couldn't' stop the bleeding in time. My other half was gone forever.

Anyway, the whole reason that my parents are sending me away is because after Bryce died, I went through a sort of "Bella without Edward" in New Moon phase. I was totally lifeless and didn't care about life anymore until one of my friends, Tracey, scared the hell out of me when she started yelling her head off and told me I needed to wake up. That kind of gave me a reality check when I realized how much I was hurting those around me by acting so down. I tried to take her advice and plastered a smile to my face and developed a fake laugh, but I guess I didn't fool my parents. So here I am, standing at Gate 12B, with my family and friends waiting for my flight to New York. It didn't hit me that I was going to miss my parents so much, my dad especially, but the bright side about the airport was that I was riding first class. When they finally opened the gate, I was emerged in a pool of love. When they finally released me I rushed on the plane without looking back so I wouldn't lose it. As soon as I found my seat, I plopped down, curled my arms around my knees in the seat, turned toward the window, and silently cried myself to sleep.

I woke to the sound of the captain's voice announcing that we were about five minutes from landing. It was around maybe five and the sky looked amazing. It was a deep pink, orange, and purple and the sun was hidden behind a thick dark cloud. I pulled my pink digital camera from my Ed Hardy purse, and snapped a picture; it didn't look as beautiful on the LCD screen. Then the captain came on again with the whole "Thanks for traveling Air Tran" speech. When I finally got off the plane, I saw my sister looking around anxiously. Even when she was confused and anxious, she looked gorgeous. Her thick, dark brown hair hung down to her dark caramel-colored shoulders, she wore a knee-length orange dress with pink heels. Her colors sort of reminded me of the sky. I raised my arm and waved in her direction, which was very aggravating, considering the fact that she looked at every other person besides me. When her anxious gray eyes finally met mine, she ran, well at least tried to run, over to me, squealing, and wrapped her long arms around me. When she finally released me, she flashed a perfect white smile at me.

"Kaysha! I'm so glad you're here! We have a lot of catching up to do. I can't wait till you see the house! It has such an incredible view of the beach!" she nearly shrieked. I suddenly became excited, remembering that I was in the countries fashion capital, and as a proud shopaholic was ecstatic about all of the shopping I'd do. This is one of the reasons I love my sister, she makes me happy and washes all my troubles away...for the moment.

"Hey sis! I've missed you too! I'm actually happy to get out of Atlanta. I think I've shopped every boutique at Lenox."

"Well, let's get to the baggage claim before Brandon drives off without us. He's already loaded your bags on the truck," she said.

I really loved my sister's boyfriend. He was like the older brother I never had. I actually had a little, no, huge crush on him. If he wasn't dating my sister, a freshman in college, and I wasn't a sophomore, then I'd definitely date him. But then again, there was- I won't let myself think his name.

When we reached the baggage claim, I nearly gasped when I saw Brandon, he was even more beautiful from when I last saw him, which I thought was impossible. His thick, brown, locks came down right above his chocolate brown eyes that were complimented by a wide grin stretched across his perfect face. I wondered if I was drooling or something because Tiffany leaned over and whispered, "Watch it Kaysha, he's mine." So I got a hold of myself and gave him a friendly hug and as soon as he released me, he wrapped his arms around Tiffany's waist and sauntered toward the silver Range Rover right outside the doors.

When we pulled off, I pulled out my T-Mobile Shadow and called my parents to let them know I made it in and was quiet for the rest of the car ride. Brandon would occasionally ask me a question, and I'd answer without going into detail. That was something I'd tried to avoid. Detail. During the whole car ride I thought of what I was going to wear to school the next day, as an excuse to prevent myself from thinking of home and my friends and how much I already miss them both. When we pulled in to the neighborhood, I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't much different from my old neighborhood. Big, quiet, and filled with rich people...boring. But then I realized that this subdivision was backed up to the beach and it looked gorgeous! When we pulled up to the house and Brandon came around and opened both of our doors and grabbed all eight of my bags out of the trunk without breaking a sweat,(God, the things I'd do to date that guy). He carried them up to my room while I sat and talked to Tiffany about how things were at home, school, sports, and of course modeling. I headed to the fridge and pulled out a Starbucks Frappachino and plopped back down in my seat at the bar.

"You know those things are loaded with calories and sugar right?" she asked with a disapproving look. Why buy them if you're not going to drink them? I wondered to myself. Tiffany was always on my case about watching what I eat because of my modeling "career". As a model herself, she eats like a vegan and it bugs the crap out of me. We were both probably on the same level of modeling; 28 fashion shows/year, and 5 magazine fashion ads.

"Fine," I said as I put the bottle back in the fridge and grabbed a Smart Water. I plopped down on the bar stool and took a big gulp.

"So, how've you been, you know, since the accident?" She asks.

"Fine" I say without fidgeting with my water bottle cap.

"That's good, because I don't know what I'd do if Brandon-"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it okay?" I tell her as I hop off the bar stool. "I'm kind of tired so I'm going to bed." I tell her as I walked to the stairs.

"Oh, okay. Goodnight." I could tell that she felt bad, so I threw her a warm smile before climbing up the stairs.

"Night!" I called when I reached the top.

I know my sister isn't the brightest crayon in the box, but I swear that sometimes she doesn't think about the words that come out of her mouth. She knows how much I hate talking about Bryce because my mother tried the same thing and ended up having me slam the door in her face after shouting some incredibly harsh words at her. She never talked about Bryce again and she was sure to warn all my friends and family so they wouldn't have to experience the bitch fit that she did. Nobody ever mentions Bryce. That's the way I want it.