Authors Notes: DUN DUN DUN!!! AHHHHH!!!! Mwuahahaha! Hehehe. Okay, I'm done. Yayness! Only two more chapters to go!…Maybe. ^-^ Hehehe.

Guys, when you review, make it LOOONG and NICE please ^-^ Not that I mind the short reviews or anything. I just like the read all the happy stuff!

Oh, and whoever flamed me, I have one message for you:

GET A LIFE!!!!

I am not DOING this for YOU, I am doing it for ME and the people that like it.

^-^ Mmkay. That's all I gotta say.

Disclaimer: **Throws random things at random people**

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Monday, Mrs. Gupta's office

Josh was dead. Gone. Out of the picture.

It was all my fault.

My parents think I am in shock or something like that. I haven't said a word in two days, since Friday, the day it all happened. I didn't go to Michael's on Friday night to go study, like I was supposed to. I haven't been answering Lilly's calls, and I haven't been out of my room, not even to eat. The only thing I can do, is write about it. Like now, I am writing about it, getting it out of my system.

School is terrible for me. Everyone gloomy and depressed. Especially Lana Weinberger. She is terrible and absolutely, downright dismal to look at. She is walking around like a lost puppy, looking for their owner. Her hair is not done, not even brushed it looked it. No makeup on her pretty face, no nail polish on her long fingernails. Not even high heals today, to show off her legs. Her eyes are all puffy and her lips are bruised. She had scratches down her face, probably from clenching it in horror. To top it all off, she was wearing sweats. Lana Weinberger has never in her life worn sweats to school.

It was making me even more depressed.

The whole school was that way- depressed and dejected. To say one thing, it mad me mad. No one was like this when Mandy Johnson died. Nobody seemed to really notice until the memorial. I was one of them, until now, I was one of them.

Yesterday I had sat down on my floor, with my yearbook out in front of me on the floor. I was planning on opening it and seeing what Mandy looked like. I had found I couldn't.

I didn't want to have to think about this. What if what I saw made me even more depressed? What if I cried? God only knows I didn't need to cry again. Then, Fat Louie came up and used his face to push the book closer to me.

I took a big breath, picked it up, and opened it. I scanned the names:

Mandy Johnson.

She was pretty. Her smile was big and warm, but yet shy and tentative. I choked on a sob.

It wasn't good for me. I had slammed the book shut and threw it across the room. God, why was this happening to me? Wasn't being a Princess and being in love with someone you can never have enough punishment?

Apparently not.

In homeroom today Lilly had told me I had to open up, talk about it. She said if I didn't, it would turn into rage and consume me. Then I would want to commit suicide.

No, I don't think so. But it did sound appealing.

Even the teachers notice how I feel! Apparently, Mr. G has asked me a lot of questions today in Algebra, and I hadn't answered. Before I knew what was going on, I was being escorted outside and to Mrs. Gupta's office, to talk.

To talk. Ha, right.

I wouldn't talk to her, why should I? It's not like she can solve my problem. She doesn't understand. She couldn't possibly. I will not say anything.

She won't get a peep out of my mouth.

Monday, G&T

Okay. I admit it. I talked.

I only told her about Mandy and Josh, but I left out everything else. Like, for instance, the letter. I couldn't tell her about the letter. Well, if I couldn't tell my own mom I can't tell my principle, right? She finally let me go and I went to G&T, where I am now.

I don't feel the pain anymore. I can't feel anything- pain, sorrow, happiness, despair. I am hallow. My heart is hallow.

And I don't even know why.

I think Michael knew this and tried to have a conversation with me earlier, but I didn't talk. It hurt to ignore him, because he is the one person I want to talk to. But, I couldn't talk to him. Now I can't. Ever again.

This is how it went:

Michael: Mia, are you okay? How are you doing?

Me: (Silence)

Michael: Mia, please talk to me.

Me: (More silence)

Michael: You need to talk about it, you need to get it out.

Me: (You guessed it, silence)

Michael: (Sigh) Fine. Why didn't you come on Friday?

Me: (Close to tears)

Michael: Mia! Mia, please.

Me: (Looking down) It's all my fault.

Michael: What? What's your fault?

That's all I said to him, I couldn't say anymore. Even though he's the one I want to share everything with, I didn't say anything. I kept my mouth shut, and my head down. Why? I don't know. I didn't even like Josh! He was a jerk. But it was my fault he's dead. Just because some moron hates me.

Then I cried. I just let it all come out.

I guess my silence, then tears, made Michael concerned- or mad, I couldn't tell. He had reached out and grabbed onto my arm. "Please don't cry."

His grip was tight. It hurt, a lot. I had looked up into his eyes. It was strange what I saw there, I couldn't make out just one emotion. Sad? Concern? …Anger?

Then it hit me.

He didn't care. He wasn't sad. It didn't bother him that Josh was dead. Granted, he didn't like Josh, at all for that matter, but couldn't he see the whole picture? It wasn't right for Josh to die. His whole life meant nothing now, he wasn't here to do what he was put on Earth to do.

I saw it in his eyes. He truly didn't care. I could never tell anything from his eyes, but then they were open for the world to see. And I didn't like it. My mind flashed back to a week ago.

'Did you hear about the murders?'

'Murders? What murders?'

'I don't know, some girl. It's in the newspaper.'

The newspaper hadn't come till that night. He hadn't gotten it yet. He couldn't have known.

My God.

I knew, then, that the fear was in my eyes. That he could see it. His grip tightened. "Mia? Mia, what's wrong? What is it?"

I had looked down at his hand clenching my arm, then back to his face. He looked down also, then quickly let go and rubbed it on his pants, as if to wipe away my touch.

My fingers softly trailed over my arm where he had just touched. My eyes had gotten wide.

There was a bruise.

A bruise on my arm.

In the shape of a hand.