"Is it possible to know where your alliances lay? Or are we destined to stumble through life choosing the worst people to entrust our secrets to. Maybe we are. But I know something that I will entrust in everyone:

I'm here to stay, no matter how gruesome the fight."

Twenty years ago, I was strong. I was defiant. I was determined. I was young. I was gullible. I was indestructible. I was I was destined to die.

There are streamers everywhere; encapsulating me; suffocating me; imprisoning me – and it's all too much. The banners; the balloons; the trestle tables; the photos; the memories cling to my heart and pull the strings tightly. It's all too much. Especially when we're asked to sit in the few chairs lain out in the Grand Hall. I want the crème brûlée to taste delicious on my tongue. I want the chandeliers to shine again. I want the tapestries to be restored. I want to disappear.

'Hello,' someone who looks important speaks. Her voice is shaky and her eyes are swollen. I know what's pulsating through her head. Why aren't there more women here? I'm thinking the same thing. 'We're here today to celebrate the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women twenty year reunion. I hope you're all enjoying the party.' I look around: nothing is enjoyable here. The atmosphere has reached maximum tension and I can feel the air slowly dissipating. I need a code to decipher; a text book to write in; a hallway to hide in; a bed to sleep in; my brain to wash away the painful memories.

Why is everyone staring at me? Why is everyone's eyes' watering? I look to the front. The lady is calling upon me to make a speech. When did this happen? No one told me.

'Will you say a few words please?'

My throat suddenly dries to a sultry desert, my tear ducts freeze over and my eyes become a slippery glazed ball. I nod.

'Thank you,' she whispers in my ear as I cross paths with her on my decent to the podium. Again, I nod.

Once I'm standing letting my pupils breeze over the faces that dot the expansive hall I let myself release the nervous feelings in my stomach. Familiar faces are among the crowd, but I know we won't speak tonight. No one will speak to me. No one will try to show they care, even though they do. No one will offer me party pies or mini quiches. No one will ask if I want a diet coke. No one will know how I'm feeling deep down.

'Twenty years ago, we were sitting in this very hall, accepting our certificates and shaking hands with each other then breaking into hugs. But how can we be here, twenty years on, with less than half the graduating class around us? We chose a path.

'Some of us strolled casually down it. Some sprinted to the finish. A few of us dodged at every stepping stone that looked unstable. Some of us had it easy. Some were in a hurry to leave it all behind. A few of us had no choice.' I paused and composed myself. Why me? Do I look empty? Because I certainly feel like it. 'We've lived, laughed, hoped, run, chosen, accepted, defied, listened, cried, smiled. We've learnt from our mistakes and experienced failure. We've loved what we were forbidden to. I would say we've done it all; but we haven't. There's still one more thing to live for.'

I smile and blink back the tears. They all know what I'm talking about which makes them wonder why I was chosen to bring back the memories.

'Twenty years ago we wrote on a plaque something we would never forget. They're now fixed to the stone wall underneath our pictures. I highly doubt any of us forgot what we wrote. It's written there for future generations to look at; stare at; scream at; cry for; smile because of; inspire to. We embraced our quotes. Some of us chose them for our mantras.'

I relieve forgotten moments. 'I don't know about the rest of you, but I think we deserve an extra sentence. A farewell tribute to those we've lost. I don't know much at all; I haven't experienced everything yet; I haven't lived every moment to the fullest; haven't laughed all that much; haven't hoped for what I really wanted; I haven't accepted my future; I haven't truly smiled for a long time; I haven't cried in years.'

I gaze distantly at everyone in the room but don't register their faces. 'If I got the chance to write something more I know what I would write.' I bow my head, and wait for the tears to come flooding out. They aren't. Their stubborn, just like me.

'Thank you,' the lady smiles at me, silently applauding me for a better job than she could have ever done. 'Thank you.'

I walk back to my seat and see the empty chair glaring at me and I know that it's now or never: I've got to walk back down that hall and look at my plaque. I don't even sit, but continue striding down the aisle and straight out the huge mahogany double doors and into the silent hallway.

Then I bolt. No one can touch me here as I'm letting the wind rush past my ears. It's now or never. I'm too numb to feel my heart throbbing as my lungs reach their full capacity. "Now or never" rips through my head.

I stop outside an oak door leading to the corridor where the portraits are held with our meaningless words slung beneath. I take deep breaths and realise it's a barren house where the halls are a dark, frightening place with shadows looming over every corner and weird sounds lingering in the air. It's not home – it's an orphanage.

Then the door handle jabs a place in my brain where I keep my memories tied up hostage. It reminds me of the last summer holiday of school. Suddenly I feel the creaking doors and see the cob webs lining the ceiling. It's my home again and not some foreign, empty place. It's light and I can hear the voices of girls in the dorms and the clatter from the kitchen as dinner is being made. The pitter patter of shoes against the polished floorboards and the swinging of ponytails fill my ears. Someone is playfully screaming and outside a window there are girls' splashing in the pool and the grass is a vibrant green. Daises dot the ground and a potted palm brushes my arm. 'Hey! I'm coming to get you!' A familiar voice rings through the corridor. My head snaps around just as my hand is pushing down on the door knob and then the sounds of twenty years ago echo for a moment and then disappear into an abyss.

No one is there.

I feel shocked and dizzy and need to collapse. But something urges me forward. Something makes me want to follow the floorboards into the dark. Slowly my steps take me forwards.

There she is. I smile – A real smile – and touch the photo. She is graceful on the spot as her blonde hair cascades down her back and her fading tan glows. Her smile brings out her eyes and makes her face pop. She was the smallest girl, yet she is larger than life in this photo. Our Ignorant Beauty: "Nothing is impossible as long as you believe that you can touch the hearts and souls of those who matter most to you and believe that they bring out the best in you. Nothing is impossible in my case. Everything is possible. I can touch the hearts and souls of those who matter and they bring out the best in me just like I do for them."

I laugh this time. Instead of a classic smile, she's opted for a face that no one outside of these very walls will notice. She's changed in this photo: she's not "Peacock". She's the girl who came to us with an attitude no one wanted to tame; who listened to our midnight conversations without permission and fell asleep in the library trying to prove her father wrong. She's Our Girl: "No one is perfect by themselves. No one can be perfect without help. Imperfections dot my life. I am proud of every one of them. Because they make me perfect in my own way. Actually, I am perfect: I am perfect at being Imperfect."

And now the breath is caught still in my throat. Her eyes shake me without physically reaching out. Stunning. Lovely. One of a kind. Extraordinary. But she wouldn't have wanted me to say it. But I did, and still do. She inspired to fulfil her life to the fullest and laugh and cry at appropriate times along the way. She achieved every one of her goals. Iron Woman: "The guide lines in life blur together sometimes. You lose control of the wheel if you're weak, and keep in order if you're strong. If you're Indestructible, you don't care. I am strong, weak, wilful, reserved, timeless and defiant. I am Indestructible."

Then me. God how I've changed. But it doesn't matter now. I read my plaque and wonder why I was so innocent: "Is it possible to know where your alliances lay? Or are we destined to stumble through life choosing the worst people to entrust our secrets to. Maybe we are. But I know something that I will entrust in everyone: I'm here to stay, no matter how gruesome the fight."

It's too much. All the solid gold plaques mean something special to me.

I take out the gold plated plaque I had pre made by a friend of mine. It means just as much to me as the solid ones, even though it will chip and come loose and look tattered by the end of the century. I am Imperfect like Our Girl said. I am Indestructible like Iron Woman wrote. I can touch the hearts and souls of those who matter like our Ignorant Beauty believed.

Then I glance at the already written delicate calligraphy on the plaque and realise my long winded quote doesn't do anyone justice like I thought it would. It doesn't do twenty years justice. I pull out a nail from my pocket and etch on the empty side of the gold plated slate three words. I feel as though I need to cry. But I don't. It's been years since I've let a tear drop.

I pull out the small electric drill and dislocate the previous plaque from the wall. I hear it clang against the ground after it free-falls from the perpendicular structure. Then I screw the gold plated slate to the wall. It's a watery moment, but no tear breaks the covered tear duct.

It's been a journey. It's been tough. It's been easy. I connect with them and can almost feel how we stressed over what we were going to write, what we thought was going to be unchangeable.

If I've learnt one thing in this business, it's that everything can change.

I walk back up the corridor and watch the faces flash by. I know them, yet let the memories slide. Suddenly the walkway seems wider and a little lighter. Only dim, though. At the end of the corridor the double doors look menacing. I fling them open, unwilling to let them deter me.

I swing on my heel and look back down the corridor. I can see them at the end. And now it's very light again. Like just before I entered the hall way. It's lovely and I wish for it to stay this way. They are smiling warmly and waving.

'We miss you,' they whisper. I am distracted by the butterfly that floats through the air in front of my face. 'A lot.'

'I miss you too,' I smile bravely, 'You left me alone.' I feel a cold shudder through me.

'We didn't mean it. You know that it wasn't our choice.'

'I love you guys.'

'We love you too, Bex,'

And it's dark again. Cold, silent.

I let a tear fall. The first in twenty years. It's all too much.

I turn sharply on my heal and run. I run so fast.

In an instant everything you love is destroyed. The memories are erased. Those you treasure are lost forever. And no matter how far you run, the things you are running from will always catch you in the end.

And then there's no escaping, because you've reached the end of the path and now all there's left to do is jump off the cliff into the unknown.

I take a deep breath. I look over the edge of the cliff. I take another. Smile, laugh. No way. Then I run away from the edge.

It may be too much, but too much is never enough. Besides, like the words know engraved in my own loopy writing,

I Will Remember

You Guys Changed My Life. I Dedicate This Story To Everyone Who Supported Me While I Was "Off-line".

I May Be Young; I May Know Little; I May Be Larger Than Life.

Thank You To My Subscribers, My Friends and The People Who Inspired Me to Continue. Because Without You, I Am Left With Nothing. I Know That Some Of You Who I Knew Prior To Writing This New Story Want To Contact Me: Please Don't. I Want A Fresh Start Without You, And I Mean No Offence. You Know Who You Are, KB. I Am Sorry.

That Part Of My Life Is Gone, And I've Changed. I'm Now Living With Close Friends In A Different State, Continuing My Education Without My Baby. Yes Everyone, I Had A Baby. Let's Move On.

Announcement Everyone Should Hear:

I'm deleting this FanFiction Account forever. If any of you own my email address please know that it is going to be terminated soon (Within the Week) and it will no longer be of use.

However, I am creating a new account where I will continue to write Gallagher Girl stories. I will not announce the user-name here or anywhere public.

You will need to IM me if you wish to know what the name of the new account will be. You will need to IM me if you wish to know what the name of the new account will be.

Yes, you read that twice.

You will need to IM me if you wish to know what the name of the new account will be. You will need to IM me if you wish to know what the name of the new account will be.

And again. Sorry. This is my last story on this channel. Please contact me ASAP if you want to know what the name of my new channel will be or if you have any questions. Contact me ASAP if you have any questions or want to know my new user-name.

Thank You For Everything You Guys Provided Me With.

I Will Remember