I suppose it was a childish hope to think it would be different, I thought I would feel something more or just something in general I guess but that's just not how these things go.

I never wanted this, any of it; I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before; Back when mom could look me in the eye without a slither judgment and suspicion, when dad smiled that real smile I barely remember, when I was able to breath without it hurting so much… when Beau was here.

When he'd laugh and make stupid jokes and call me midget. God I hated that… I miss that.

The cold truth is that he's never coming back and in all honesty I'm tired of trying to get through the day, pretending I'm ok, of waking up… so fucking tired.

So I've decided to go away, I just want to go away…

I've done so many messed up things in my life that I can barely take it. Maybe they'd have understood but I just couldn't bring myself to tell them everything, not in person anyway.

I left a note.

Yeah I know it's the cowards way out and all that jazz… then I guess you can brand me a grade A fucking coward because I just can't face it, face the look of horror on my parents face or the disgust on Isaac's when they read all about my little confession.

Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons doesn't make it right… but I stand by it regardless.

At least I finally did something worthwhile before… you know.

It doesn't hurt as much as you'd think as the blood races out of my wrists, soothed by the water and strawberry scented bubbles. I think about how it matches my hair, the blood I mean. My hairs always has been that dark shade of crimson, not that trendy hipster red, ginger or strawberry blonde, its blood red, so much blood… then black!

FOUR MONTHS EARLIER

*BANG*

*BANG*

Pulling the already half bent floral pillow over my head I mumble a shout at the evil creature on the other side of my bedroom door "I'm up!"

"Then get dressed!" I throw the pillow at the poster covered door wishing it was open so it'd actually hit my mother in her overdone, snotty face.

Groaning into my hands I manage to crawl out of bed to be met by three perfectly charming pictures on my wall lined in fairy lights, the first of my short self and an lanky older brown-coppery haired, blue eyed boy making a pig face while my face is squished into his long neck, the second of me on my father's back, while the blue eyed boy laughs popping his head in-between the elder man's legs, that's where you can see their resemblance minus a few grey hair's and the third is a capture of me crying and my brother punching the clown that freaked me out.

Beau… he always could make me laugh, god I miss him.

"Liberty!"

With a roll of my pretty blue eyes I scream back "I'm coming!"

Ten minutes later I bounce down stairs while side braiding my crimson curls and find my mother in the kitchen fussing about something over nothing as usual but stops as she sees me enter the room "really Liberty?"

Grabbing a bagel from the small plate set out I simply ignore my mother, already knowing where this is going "why can't you put a bit more color in your wardrobe, maybe a nice dress for once?"

"Leave her alone Laura." My dad comments in a dull tone from behind his paper, he got bored with my mom's whining to long ago to care much.

Not that it stops her, because she stands hands on hips, a mirror of me in thirty years but with less fashion sense "Fred look at your daughter, look at her, those clothes are just… what will the people from church think?"

The way she makes out is like I'm wearing a bra and Toto, believe me I'm not, I think I look fine anyway; black printed jeans, a cotton grey t-shirt, red sneakers with matching red tip-less gloves and a long silver chain. Dad seems to approve as he casts a glance over his paper only to throw it down with a sigh and grab his car key's "Fred, Fred!"

He walks out silently as I grab my book bag and wave smugly with a mouth full of yummy bagel just because I know it'll piss her off. The ride to school is almost totally silent except for the classic station my dad has glued to the radio, just before we get out and the engine dies my dad looks at me with the eyes he passed to me and places a heavy hand on my head "there's nothing wrong with you Liberty Bell."

"Yeah? Tell mom that." it's a low blow but I know he will talk to mom, not that it does much good.

With a sorrowful sigh he kisses the crown of my head "hey, your still my little girl… now be good."

I offer a vague nod before getting out of the car and watch as he leaves me behind. My parents haven't been getting along for a while now, not since Beau died, mom turned to the church for answers and dad never even bothered looking, to broken to try I guess. Then I only just made things worse, let's just say I didn't handle losing my big brother well.

But who would right?

Walking through the halls filled with the cockroaches of this sunny suburban hellhole and I can't help but miss the salty breeze of New Orleans; we've lived here for three weeks and four days… I don't like it.

During second period I sit with my headphones booming into my ears while jotting down notes from the notebook and out of the corner of my eye I notice the moron next to me grabbing a flask of brownish liquid I know to be vinegar and go to mix it with bleach… BLEACH FOR FUCKS SAKE!

Grabbing his hand I all but growl at him "what the hell are you doing?"

A pair of big blue doe eyes look at me like a deer in headlights as I take the flask off the guy "dude seriously? Adding any weak acid to bleach will release toxic chlorine and chloramine vapors."

He looks at me kind of confused and asks almost sheepishly "Acid?"

"Vinegar is an acid brainiac! The worst that could happen: You can get a nasty chemical burn, especially your eyes and lungs so in layman's terms we don't mix these. Ok?" I watch him then as he quickly moves to fix his sleeve to hide his not well hidden bruise.

This is the first conversation I've had with the boy since I was landed in this class with that dick of a teacher Harris who just happens to notice "Nice work Miss McNell, at least someone's paying attention. Lahey, I think it would be a good idea if you two worked together on our new essay… The Dangers of Our Home, meaning the basic chemicals that are harmful in our everyday environment. Considering your lack of the basic's Lahey maybe a watchful eye is for the best. McCall you and Stilinski are separate for this, maybe you might actually accomplish something resembling work."

I can't help but glare at the boy, with a snarl because I don't want to work with him. I don't want to work with anyone. I just want to be left alone is that so hard.

During lunch I sit and attempt to eat the slop this place calls food, I mean I know budgets for schools suck but rather that new lights for the lacrosse field let's focus on actually providing nourishment for the minds your crappy teaching is trying to penetrate, just a thought. Then out of nowhere goldilocks decides to slump down in front of me "so when are working on this paper?"

"Excuse you?" I glare at him because he's suddenly got a pair of balls as he bites with a halfhearted smile into his apple. Gone is that slither of fear I'd seen in class, or hidden perhaps "The paper, you know for chemistry? It's Liberty right?"

"How about never? I'll do my half and you do yours ok? Now get out of my face." Now most people would be fine with that but this guy just won't let up and seems to drop the tough guy act for a second.

Leaning closer he looks at me with those big puppy dog eyes and pleads "come on, Liberty please I can't fail this class."

I could see something in his eyes, not the unsure fear from earlier but true fear, like a stay begging for its life to the pound keeper. Maybe that's why I nod with a shallow groan "fine, come by my house tomorrow."

"What's wrong with tonight?" he asks as I scribble my address onto a page from my notepad and hand it to him, more like throw it at him but still "my parents have stuff going on, so you'll have to wait and for the record I'm not doing your work for you or sleeping with you. My dad has a gun and taught me how to use it… so yeah."

Isaac chuckles lightly with an amused frown "ok, so do you just hate me or do you threaten all your friends?"

"I don't know you to hate you and we're not friends." I smirk with a hint of malice as I grab my stuff to get the hell out here but just before I turn to leave I lean into the boy who smells of fresh Golden Delicious, sickly deodorant and that sweet boy smell… like honeysuckle "and another thing, it's Nell."

With a mild chuckle he meets my gaze and asks "your nickname is the second half of your last name?"

"Yeah, problem?" He makes this face, seeming to find it funny as I steal what's left of his apple. I can't wait for this project to be over so that idiot will be out of my hair. Because I don't do friends, I don't let people in.

Not anymore… at least that's what I thought at the time, before that curly haired idiot burrowed his way into my life.

That was my first mistake.