Where It Leads Us

Chapter One

"Come on, it's time for us to head out. I need you to come with me and fetch some books," She pleads while my arm is being yanked. Zania forces me to move from a relaxed position. I pull my arm away, slipping back to my former place in a lazy way. As I groaned with my eyes closed, I raised the song's volume.

"I'm too lazy. Just let me be," I groaned.

"I am begging you. Please be kind to me," Zania continues to plead for my assistance.

This time, Zania violently yanked my arm, causing me to crash face-first onto the carpet board. I lifted myself off the floor, dusted my clothing, and then turned to look at her. On her lips, a lopsided grin emerged. I rolled my eyes, nodding my head, giving in as I watched her clap triumphantly at herself.

"Wait--," Zania says, "Are you for real, or am I just dreaming?" she whispers as she smiles, unbelievable now that she got me to say yes to going out after a long time.

I sighed and said, "I owe you this one, anyway," as I shrugged to myself.

She shrieked and hugged me before letting her walk out on her own, after I pushed her out of my room, closing the door. I stepped towards the mirror, looking at an image of my own. As I looked at myself, a surge of disgust found its way into my head, questioning every bit of my existence.

The last year of high school, senior year, finally came around the corner. It's not that surprising to hear I've passed all my subjects, knowing I've been gone for months because I know it's all Clarissa's doing. Clarissa told me that it's easier to concentrate on my mental well-being than surrounding myself with plenty of people, and I couldn't agree more.

The teachers at school assigned me certain activities in which I could consult with them via online video calls if I had any problems regarding the lessons, and they also assigned me some lessons to read and study on my own. I completed online exams that were monitored by Clarissa and each teacher on video calls for their specific subject. It wasn't the greatest, but it was the best I could do at the time.

As for therapy, I grew to hate it now when Clarissa takes me twice a week now, to my psychiatrist so that he can observe any more changes to check if there is anything new and ask questions that I found myself never seem to answer truthfully.

I have had to convince Clarissa not to let me stay for three entire weeks in a psychiatric facility, right away, just for a psychologist to properly monitor my behavior. I feel as if my psychiatrist is starting to treat me as if I've been carrying a disease that I have been dreaming of spreading.

As I walked downstairs, I heard an old, familiar giggly voice that made my lips turn upside down. Savannah stood there with her back facing me, talking with Clarissa about some meats and potatoes.

Savannah turned her head around to face me when she noticed Clarissa, who was looking directly at me. Her eyes sprang up at the sight of me, and she hugged me before I could register it.

Savannah, along with Zania and Clarissa and my psychiatrist who keeps me sane, was one of the people that made the previous two years tolerable. Without Savannah, I would not have made it through high school. She was the one friend I had who, after all, stood with me even after everyone heard what had happened to my family.

When I returned to school two years ago, weeks after my sister died, I knew that the moment I stepped foot inside that building, people would be staring and whispering. I would sometimes watch people leave notes on my sister's locker, some calling her an angel but most of them calling her a slut and a bitch—it's most likely the same students who came up to me on memorial service day and apologized for our loss.