Chapter Two

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Dedication: AmazinglyCate for the cover! Thank you!


******* TWELVE MONTHS LATER *******


That was my first thought when I stared at the new school I'd be attending. I wrinkled my nose at the large, iron gates and barb wired fences that surrounded it. The building was large and entirely built of brick.

Security guards, at least two from what I could see, were paroling the outside perimeter. I swallowed a dry lump that had seemingly lodged itself in my throat. How my life could go from absolutely perfect, to this, was still... dumbfounding. If my Dad hadn't died, this would never have happened. Everything would still be okay. I, would be okay.

I had to be.

Sighing wearily, I pinched the skin in between my eyes together. I couldn't believe this is what my life has come to. If I could go twelve months back and somehow save my Dad... everything would still be perfect. I had been out laughing with my friends, being felt up by my non-labeled boyfriend and having a great time, whilst my Dad had been getting murdered.

The thought of that made me so sick I wanted to vomit up the entire last twelve months of my life's food consumption. I shiver ran down my spine as the memories began bombarding me. Life back then was... amazing.

"Ma'am?" the taxi driver asked, clearing his throat uneasily. I slowly turned my head, meeting his gaze steadily, my eyes narrowing almost immediately. He physically flinched, cringing away from me. "P-please don't hurt me."

My eyes softened. Slightly. It must be hard transporting people around this area of town. You'd get a lot of idiots and thugs. I fished the money I owed him out of my pocket and slapped it into his hand. He gave me a tentative smile before dumping the last of my bags onto the side walk. "Will you be right from here?"

I didn't reply.

With an awkward nod, he hopped into his Taxi and burnt rubber leaving the area. I stood there for a few moments, contemplating on running away. I had a bit of money... I could support myself for a couple of weeks. Get a job at a local store, rent a crappy one room apartment... I knew I probably wouldn't survive like that though. Maybe I could become a stripper. Hell, with the clothes I wore twelve months ago, I probably was already classed as one.

Going to this school hadn't exactly been my suggestion, as you have probably noticed from my bitter attitude. My grandfather had had enough of my slipping grades, my late nights and me coming home either high or drunk. (Or when I would bring random men home. Yes, actual men sometimes). He'd sent me to the most strictest school in the zone, that he knew of.

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