I walked into the small café with Owen, Clarke, and Rolly. Well, more like forced into the café. My evil boyfriend and friends had somehow convinced me to go to Open Mic Night and tell my story. I had been against the idea; they were the only people who knew what really happened to Will Cash, who was now in jail for raping Emily. I didn't go up on the stand, choosing instead to give a deposition anonymously. I never told my family about any of this, but I did take charge of my life. I quit modeling, which surprisingly didn't destroy my mother, and got my own radio slot. Clarke was my co-host. We patched up our friendship, and I started going out with Owen. Life was starting to look up, which was why I was so against tonight.

We walked towards a small table by the stage. "So we can help if needed," Owen explained softly. I gave him a small smile. There were so many things about Owen I loved, but the biggest thing was his honesty. He could be honest with me without making me feel like crap.

I must've looked worried, so Clarke patted me on the back. "Don't worry. You'll do great," she reassured me. I probably still looked nervous, so she added. "It's not like your family here. No one here knows you."

This did help me calm down a bit. I was afraid of telling my family, especially my mom. I thought it would break her. I didn't want to disappoint anyone. It was why I had always been so nice. But, being nice doesn't guarantee that you'll be happy. It just means you're easy to be taken advantage of. After I'd told Clarke about the rape, Rolly offered to teach a few moves he'd picked up at his job. I'd graciously accepted. Now, I could somewhat defend myself.

Rolly and Owen went to get us coffee after some begging. Clarke turned to me, her expression concerned. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I am." I paused for a second before adding, "I'm going to tell my parents after this." Clarke's jaw dropped. It would've shocked me too.

"Seriously?" I nodded my head again. "Damn, Annabel. Why did you get guts?" she asked me with a laugh. I just mock-glared at her. It was hard to mad at Clarke; she was always making me laugh.

Owen and Rolly came back with our drinks and elated smiles. "Guess what?" Rolly shouted a bit too loud. Clarke smacked him, a signal to lower his volume. She was constantly smacking Rolly. Clarke definitely wore the pants in that relationship. Not that Rolly even cared. He was crazy about her.

"What?" I humored him. Rolly was like a little kid, always getting excited over little things and easily distracted.

"Truth Squad's filling in tonight!" Owen replied excitedly. This was surprisingly good news. Truth Squad's first album was due to drop in a month, and they'd been too busy recording to really play anywhere. Thankfully, the Potato Opus wasn't on the track list. I was also looking forward to seeing Remy; we'd hung out a few times. She was cool.

Clarke gave Rolly a quizzical look. "How didn't you know about this?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow. I was a little curious about this myself. Usually Rolly was the first with scoop on Truth Squad. It was his cousin's band, after all.

"Nah, it was a last minute thing," Rolly replied casually. This I could believe: that band was nothing if not unpredictable.

A frazzled-looking, grey-haired man hopped on to the small stage. He motioned for everyone to quiet down. "Okay, so I'm Rick. I'm the manager of this place. This is how Open Mic Night works: when someone's up here, you listen. When they're done, whoever wants to come up here next goes. Enjoy."

First up was an emo-looking girl dressed in head to toe black. That could've been me if Owen hadn't rescued me from my funk. It's funny how things can turn it. The girl started to read some really bad poetry. I mean really, really bad poetry. It was amazing what popped into people's head.

I could hear Clarke groan softly. I felt her pain. This poetry was just plain awful, and anyone with ears could tell. "What's this crap even about?" she whispered to me. I shrugged; I wasn't too sure either.

"Who knows," I responded with a smirk. Owen just shook his head. He always said that a smirk looks out of place on my face. And I'm sure it did.

The girl ended with a crowd booing her off the stage. I didn't join into the booing. It probably took her a lot of guts to get up on that stage. Owen nudged me with his foot under the table. "You're up," he said. I smiled and kissed him. I didn't know what I would do without Owen there to support me.

"Go Annabel!" Rolly shouted as I walked towards the small stage. Clarke just gave me a thumbs up. I got on stage and grabbed the microphone, looking around the café. These were complete strangers, people who would probably never know me. I was safe here. I thought about who I was and who I am now. I thought about that night, Sophie's reaction, and everything that had happened since. It had been a whirlwind, one that taught me life didn't always go my way.

"Hi, I'm Annabel. Annabel Greene," I said. I heard Rolly's snicker and shot him my death glare, which only made him laugh louder. "You might recognize me from really tacky tire ads, but that's not why I'm up here tonight." I stopped for a second. "I'm here to tell you my story. It doesn't have a perfect beginning, and I'm not sure what the ending is yet. But it's all mine." Owen smiled at me, his eyes encouraging me to go on.

"Something you should know about me is that I have two older sisters, two extremes. Kirsten is loud and not afraid of life. If she's upset, everyone knows it. Then there's Whitney. She's quiet and only speaks when necessary. She never gives more than you ask. You have to pry information out of Whitney; she never tells you what's wrong. My sisters say I'm the only one that hasn't been broken, but I feel like the most broken of all us. It all started one early summer night…" I started to tell my story, completely unaware of who was really in the audience.