They call me many names, none of which are my own.

They call me 'Freak.' They call me 'Speechless.' They call me 'Mute Girl.'

My name is Alexandra Riley Dawson. I go by each name, my friends- if I had any- call me either Ally, Alex, or Riley. I just turned 17, and I'm a junior at Pine Edge High, in Pine Edge, Washington.

It's been 3 years since the incident, and I haven't spoken to her since.

Her, a.k.a Cassidy Stiller. My ex-best friend, my bully, my tormentor, and the only one who knows what happened.

Reaching up, I put my hand on my head, to make sure my hood is still on, and that it covers my hair. I cut it, my hair, after the incident. Now, instead of mid-back, dyed blonde, I had shoulder length, chocolate hair- the dye eventually wore off and I had my natural color once more.

Closing my locker, I sigh, wishing the day would not be like the others.

Turning around, I roll my brown eyes at what I see.

Cassidy strutted down the hall, her twit slaves struggling to keep up. The one who flanked her right, Kira, held both Cassidy's and her own textbooks, resulting in a striking 8 5 pound books. The one on her left, Brooke, held her own textbooks, and Cassidy's sacred 'Beauty Bag'. That bag held all of Cassidy's 'necessary' supplies, ranging from make-up to bubble gum.

Like usual, Conni and her posse, known as the C-listers, which is supposed to be a clever knock-off of the 'A-listers', show up at my locker. Wonderful.

"Hey Mute Girl, how's your day been so far?" She asks. I don't reply, I haven't spoken a word for 3 years.

"What's wrong freak? Do I make you Speechless?" She continued, and she snickered, along with her 'girls', and all the people in the hall, who have once again crowded around us.

With a small shake of my head, I adjust my backpack and begin to leave the circle. Obviously annoyed, Cassidy grabs my wrist and forcefully turns me around.

"Where do you think you're going, freak?" She sneered.

With my free hand, I take off my sunglasses and look her in the eye. She gasps, and releases my arm from her tight grasp. I then turn again, and walk out of the shocked group of people.

I know why she let me go.

I know what she saw in my eyes.

I see it in the mirror, when I have the courage to look.

She saw pain, regret, sorrow, and most of all, fear.