A/N: I own this whole story and I take credit for the whole thing. Go me! And I only own one character, myself, and the other characters are based on people who go to my school. Names have not been changed. Muahahaha! I hate that kid…

I burst through the door and the pile of giggling girls on the floor scream.

"What are you doing?" my roommate asks.

"Nothing." I giggle and throw my book on my bed.

"Can you go somewhere else for a while? We're doing something." My roommate says loudly. Her friends continue to giggle and gibber in Korean non-sense.

"Fine, I'll go to the PX then…" I grab my laptop, charger, and keys and slam the door behind me. Damned Koreans, only they can ruin a perfect moment.

My keys hanging off of my belt loop jingle against the wad of key chains with every step down the stairs. Just before I turn the corner to descend the second flight of stairs, I catch a garbled Asian conversation. They include some English words, but I can't make out what they're saying through the Taiwanese. I give up on trying listening in, and I hear my name in the midst of the gibberish. I step out from behind the wall and the girls look up, wave at each other, and head down opposite sides of the hall.

"What the heck?" I say out loud. I laugh at myself. I've never said that before I came here. ESL students pick up on funny thinks like that. And I've picked it up off of them.

I descend the stairs, and open the door. The cold, brisk air bites my face. I shiver and watch dusk fall behind the trees. The street is deserted and silent. I cross it and open the door to the PX. It's dark and empty. Looks like someone forgot to lock the door after the lunch shift, and no ones come to work.

Basking in the silence and treat of being alone, I lock the door behind me. No one will ever know I was here. I take a seat at the bar, and plug in my laptop. On the floor under the stools I notice a piece of paper. It looks like a note. Hoping it's in English, I open it. Score! It looks like a guy's and a girl's handwriting. The paper reads a name in the upper right hand corner. "Igor". My heart plummets. He's Russian.

I start to read and my eyes begin to sting with tears. He's writing with a girl and they're talking about me. She calls me irritating and stuck up. He agrees and they both keep bashing on me. Talking about how I don't have any friends, and I always talk in class about things that no one cares about. That I'm new and I need to be put in my place.

I tear the note into shreds and toss them in the general direction of the garbage can. They scatter everywhere. That's ridiculous. I can't stand preps. I think he was talking to the girl that always gets in trouble for making out with boys in the weight room. But I can't be sure.

I sit back at the bar and turn on my laptop. I pull up my usual blog site, and try to see if I can find anything interesting to read. I come across the girl from the stairs' MySpace page. Her latest bulletin says that she hates me and she wishes that I would mind my own business and learn how to cope with other people, rather than just telling everyone off for talking to me. Great. More tears. I bring up my picture folder and sift through the pictures. They're mostly one's I've pulled off the internet. I come across one of a forearm, openly bleeding. I'm not sure if it's real. It looks like a picture taken in a hospital. Pretty cool looking actually.

I reach for my keychain and pull off the mini utility knife. I wonder…

I keep looking through my pictures, coming across bloody razors, bleeding hands, and a girl soaked in her own blood, laying and the floor next to a shining dagger.

I really do have all those fun pictures on my computer, and then some! Lol, I love them…