Another chapter in a different point of view! A little confusing I suppose, but this chapter is definitely needed to develop characters and the plot line for certain characters a little more. Enjoy!

I had just sent a text message to Alison, telling her that everyone knew about her supposed death now. I had gone up early in the morning (about 7am) to it her plan into motion which I had reluctantly agreed to. What I wasn't expecting though, was how well she had set up the crime scene for me to find. I had taken the elevator straight to the top floor, and almost immediately discovered her door to be completely trashed, splinters lying around in the carpet and the room yonder.

Walking further in, it wasn't just the door that had been destroyed. The bed had also been cut to pieces with what seemed like a blade, along with her luggage and the chest of draws next to the door. Blood had also somehow been splattered across the walls, and even over the bed which was laying upon it's side. The thing that really made this situation believable was the fact that the window had been broken from the inside out, with hints of blood across the remaining sharp fragments of the window. How had she done this with no one noticing?

I then put on my best melodrama face, and screamed loud enough to wake the entire hotel. People came running immediately, staff and students alike. Even the teachers got there at some point, overcoming their sickness due to the hotel food. burst into tears at the sight of the blood and the broken window, while couldn't bear to look at the sight of my college's destroyed room. I put on some theatrics for everyone, like tears, and later when I was asked to explain everything to the police, I asked for a moment to calm down and collect myself. The media and police ate it up. I should of been proud of myself, I made soap operas look even more shitty than they already were, however I felt a slight feeling of guilt twist in my stomach for lying to so many people. 'But it's for a good reason and cause,' I reasoned to myself while I 'gathered my thoughts'.

Eventually we were all gathered in the dinner hall, students and teachers alike, when the unfortunate demise of Alison Brown was announced. Many cried, others were shaking, but just like Alison said, Kyle was almost amused at the thought that she was dead. He acted as though I was in shock, and tried to coax me to his room to 'cheer me up', but I had had enough of Kyle. I suppose in hind-sight, it made my performance look even more real.

"Seriously Kyle? A girl has died today, an extremely good person who has never done anything wrong and had a passion for everything she did, and you are making jokes about her and trying to take advantage of my grief and coax me into your bed?" I began full on shouting at him, obviously taking everyone by surprise, Kyle included, but I didn't care, I now knew how she felt when back at school she told the teachers 'everyone was against her'. "You are nothing but a sick fuck who will never learn what it is to have empathy or to respect another person! I didn't even want to be an artist or dress this way but I became one and changed my style because I liked you, I even left behind the only friends I had!" Tears began forming in my eyes after finally spilling the truth about how I felt, what I really was. It was liberating, and I had to tell them, him, more. "I wanted to become a doctor, a healer or nurse, not become a slut or an artist, yet you went on blind and you treated everyone with no respect what-so-ever, so for once in my life, I'm going to do what I want for a change. This relationship is over!"

Full of emotion in front of everyone, I decided doing something drastic to get my full point across would work. Punching Kyle was simply the best decision I had ever made, besides dumping him of course. I felt the wonderful feeling of pain in my knuckles as my punch connected with his gut, sending him sprawling to the floor, and never in my life did I feel so free. Perhaps I had spent to much with Alison, as when I walked away, tears in my eyes and knuckles bloody, and my head held high, I didn't feel like I was doing the walk of shame from the room.

More like I felt I was doing a walk of victory and freedom.