Chapter 1

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The girl was glaring at me with her magnetic brown eyes, deep like melted hot-chocolate. Her black curly hair reached down to her chest, white pins were clipped on each side of her head. She looked soft, and pure. Her name is Amara. Wait, that's my name. Simple, she's me. I got nervous again, like that feeling where there's a pit in my stomach. As if I had just been on a rollercoaster, I felt something stuck down my throat.

A group of girls have just invited me over for a party, and was I supposed to say no? Well, uh yeah, I can get anxious in public, but I can't say no. I put on a pretty white dress, it was more tight at the top, it was angelic, like something a princess would wear. The bottom of the dress had beautiful ruffles, I couldn't help but think how nice I looked. I've heard stories of parties and hangouts with large groups of people going wrong, multiple times.

I looked at myself for the last time, then the time on my phone. 7:15 the time said. It was getting late, the party started at 7:20. If you're wondering how a 14 year old would drive, I can't. But I can walk down the street to the house! Taking the nervous feeling in my stomach with me, I grabbed my phone and put on a white pearly necklace, perfecting my look.

"Ma, I'm going with my friends!" I kissed my mom on the cheek, but she just narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure these girls are your friends?" She said, lovingly. "Not really, ma. But I got nervous and I said yes." I stuttered out, sounding like a naïve idiot. "Ma, why do you have a bruise across your face?" My eyes went wide with sudden worry, as if I wasn't already anxious enough. "It'll be alright, honey. I wish I . . ." She stopped herself, creak creak creak was heard from upstairs. "Go! Go honey, go!" She panicked and pushed me outside, locking the door. My eyes swelled up, my knees felt like jelly and I could feel the tears being pushed out again.

"Concentrate . . ." I breathed in and out. I started to walk down towards Allison's house, that's where the hangout would start. She asked me to come during class, giving me an invitation. Technically, it was a party, but she used the word 'Hangout'. It was hosted by her and her little group of girls. They didn't really do harm, not to me at-least. It was a girls only party--hangout, place. I don't know what to call it anymore.

I sighed and reached for my white purse, hands trembling and everything. My head was pounding and I was holding my breath. After the paper slipping out of my sweaty fingers a few times, I finally got a hold of the invitation. I opened it up, a pretty flower-decorated letter. The exact same address was on it. I gulped and walked onto the porch, knocking the door. I couldn't explain how bad my social anxiety got. My hands were sweating so much, it looks like someone poured a bucket of water onto my arms. I wish I hadn't came, or that I haven't even gotten invited, or that I haven't even had classes with them. Maybe I wish I wasn't even- "Hey, Amara, right? You made it! Hey!" Allison smiled, her red lipstick was pretty. Her freckles complimented her well, I never talked to her much but she was very sweet unlike some of the girls she hung around. Yet again, no real harm was ever done by them.

"Hi!" I tried to draw a smile on my face as quick as I could, but my fingers were restless. "Come, sit down on this seat!" She pointed to a pink, soft-looking tiny chair. I sat down on it, still shaken. She sat in the middle, fidgeting strands of her silky blonde hair with her fingers, grinning. "So, I actually wanted to invite all of the girls for some good news and some fun!" She announced, I've never seen her this excited before--usually, she would sit at the side and watch but now she was in-charge of something. "So, like, I thought it would be a good idea for our first few months of freshman year to enjoy." She swiftly swept her princess curls aside, looking for words. "I wanted to hang out with no boys, and no there isn't alcohol, sorry Phoebe."

A lot of the girls who gathered around looked excited, the ones who looked cold and bitchy were the ones who knew Allison. I didn't focus much on what Allison was saying, I just noticed all the girls who looked glad to be there. My eyes slightly stung. "--So I decided they I might want to, Uhm, be the person who gives off the prizes this year for the awards and stuff like that. I didn't get to . . . Do it. Not in any year I can remember at-least. So I want to this year. Is that okay with everyone?" She glanced up. "Girl. Who the fuck told you that you'd take that role?" A redhead spoke, it was Phoebe. She was a bit bitchy, sometimes. It didn't bother me though, it never got to the point of harm.

"I'm sorry, what?" Allison smirked, getting defensive. It did make sense, our school has these award ceremonies. I'm not involved, so I don't know how that works, but she could choose to be a prize giver . . . Person, apparently. She never has been, not through any year of middle school nor this year, so it would make sense if all the girls in her group got to, she should as well. My mind was racing, it was all too much to handle. I didn't want to see more people fight. It does sound selfish, I just apologized to myself in my head for that.

"She's right, who told you that you could be in the spotlight? Allison, you're just my account manager after all." Another girl, who was known as larisse, I think . . . spoke up, stirring up a conflict. I silently watched it all unfold. "Not here." Allison shook her head, disproving of their malicious intent. "No, no. Yes, here. Now everyone can see how much of a narcissistic little bitch you truly are." Phoebe looked her up and down furiously, all the girls she called her friends have already ganged up on her. Beep beep beep beep beep some sort of alarm went off in the kitchen. "I'm not just your account manager, nor your brothers girlfriend, Larisse." Allison started to tear up.

She may have seemed popular and catty to a lot of people, but she wasn't. All the girls who were sitting down were already about to throw down. "Amara, you may wanna start running." Pheobe snickered at me, "I know you have eyes on my boyfriend. Don't think I'll let this over." She smirked before she gave Allison a slap across the face. The sharp noise of Pheobe's palm against Allison's cheek could probably be heard throughout the entire house. The alarm in the kitchen went off again, I never felt so scared.

The next thing stuck deep in my mind--One of the girls had grabbed a long, silver statue off of the fancy glass table, passing it to Pheobe. I heard Allison screech for help, I wanted to jump in and push them away from her, but they were watching as Pheobe bashed it against Allison's face, repeatedly. She screamed and shouted my name for help, I could remember drops of blood landed on my white boots.

The next thing I knew, paramedics arrived, the kitchen was burning on fire and everyone was screaming. I didn't understand any of what they were shouting about, the trauma lived rent-free in my head. I've just seen a very sweet girl get BEAT until blood was splattering. I went dizzy and passed, my body going fully limp and collapsing.

The memories are still tainted to this day, all until the end of the court trial, it was like--gaps? Like holes in my mind.

I remember the question the judge asked me. "7 years of Jail, or 28 months at Camp Greenlake?" I remember responding with "Camp." A tremble could be heard in my voice. I left earlier that day. Again, it's like gaps. I remember one bit down to the last detail and then i just. I don't know. I packed some of my stuff, I don't remember seeing my mother that day, it's like something she told me that my brain wanted me to forget. I packed my bag and left home. Shivering, I got onto the bus, a guard put handcuffs onto me and I sat on the second seat. My breaths were shaky. I was shot in the chest by an ominous, daunting feeling. It seemed to have left a scar, because I would occasionally get it again. I could see some mist outside, the day was average.

I wished I could just disappear, sometimes I wished that was me instead of Allison. Or sometimes, I wished I was caught in the fire. The feelings were reoccurring on the trip there. I leaned against the seat in front of me and wept quietly. I didn't even know I got framed, but I did.

I didn't know how I could live with myself any longer.