Chapter 1

'The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling.' – J D Salinger

Hastily brushing away the sudden, angry tears, Natalie threw her iPod to the other end of the bed, where it lay looking sinisterly innocent. Jesus, she couldn't even listen to a song without falling apart. Without thinking of him.

Chest shaking, she bit her fist, an imprisoned scream barely contained. She couldn't fight it anymore. Quickly closing her bedroom door, Natalie grabbed the pocket-knife from her desk, where it had been lying, glaring at her. Sitting on the cold floor, with her back to the door, she rolled up her school shirt sleeve to reveal a stricken arm, bearing scars from its last meeting with the knife. Scars which hadn't even begun to heal yet. For a moment, Natalie lightly stroked the knife up and down her arm, its mirror shine smiling grimly at her. Setting steel to skin, Natalie closed her eyes and inhaled; her face an opus of black stained tears. Releasing her blood was like releasing her poison. A natural poison that taunted her every heartbeat, her every breath. Loves own venom.

Bringing her weak and burning arm across her chest, dripping blood onto the paper white of her shirt, Natalie kept her eyes tensely shut. She didn't know why, but although the feel of her flowing blood soothed her, she couldn't stand the sight of it. Perhaps it made her feel guilty. Perhaps it made her feel ungrateful… weak… cowardly. Natalie evaded the sight for one reason at least. Seeing her blood reminded her she was alive. She didn't want to be alive.

'Popularity is the easiest thing in the world to gain and it is the hardest thing to hold'. - Will Rogers

A glazed look in her eye, Deeshah's 5 month boyfriend had to say her name several times, eventually kissing her softly on the cheek to get her attention. Dragging herself back to reality, she turned to face him, a vague expression on her beautiful face. The group of friends around her laughed. Steven, the before mentioned boyfriend grinned and kissed her again.

'I love confusing you Dee, just for the expression it leaves on your face' Deeshah laughed and pushed him playfully away. 'Want half?' he asked, holding out the cigarette he had been smoking. She hesitated. Deeshah already felt sick and she eyed it with hostility, but she knew if she said no; Ste would carry on until she gave in, as always. So why prolong it? 'Yeah, as always' she grinned falsely and took it in feigned eagerness.

Deeshah Ali was a relatively ordinary 16 year old girl, born there in Norfolk. Her parents were both Indian and they had produced one of the most beautiful young girls possible, a real desire amongst the boys at school. She looked around at the group, sitting there with her on the river bank, and reflected on how much dislike oozed from her towards them. Except for Ste, but even with him, there was some kind of weariness. Maybe even fear. But she did love him… when they were alone. In front of others was the problem, or when he was under the influence of alcohol or any other contaminating substance. Deeshah didn't really know why she hung around with these tiresome people. It was probably because they were who everyone else wanted to be with. Thus, people then wanted to be with her. It felt good; watching other girls suck up to her, envy her, even vainly strive to be like her. Boy's eyes lingering on her for just a second longer than was necessary. But not even the highest throne of high school royalty could fulfill Deeshah. Not even the most sought after boy in school, there to service her every need. She was as empty as the dead night's breeze. No matter how much they envied her, not a single soul would want the cold fire that burnt inside Deeshah. Not a single soul.

'Nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.' - Jean de La Fontaine

Allura Jones looked in the mirror and screamed. Picking up the slender object of reflection, she threw it against the grey wall, not even turning away as jagged pieces of glass rushed in every direction. An imitation of life itself; shattered. But Allura turned away miraculously unscathed. On the outside, at least.