You don't know what obsession is... Until you meet me. (ON HOLD)

Obsession Prologue + Chapter 1

I sighed as I got to my locker and looked at the year's new schedule. First period: History. I sucked at History. Really, I hadn't completely lied when I told Monica I couldn't miss this lesson: I needed every extra point I could get, which meant: No skipping! I grabbed my books out of my locker and went to meet up with Tommy the Traitor outside the classroom.

CHAPTER 1

Lily's POV

When I woke up from heavy sleep, I immediately realized that today was Monday. Ugh! First day at a new school. And to top if off, it was two weeks in on the semester, so every other potential new kids had already had the chance to settle in.

Sigh. It wasn't that I was opposed to moving across the country, really, it was just the opposite - I welcomed the move with open arms, but I still thought we could have come a little earlier, instead of waiting two weeks into the semester. Why, you ask, would I welcome a move away from all my friends and comrades? Well, you see, Matt... Well... Emily... Ugh, forget it, I don't even want to think about it!

I wanted to make a good first impression the first day, so I hopped (literally) out of bed and into my new, shining bathroom (Yes, I know! I have my VERY OWN bathroom! How cool is that?!) I glanced at myself for a mere second in the mirror, and saw I was in Desperate need of a shower: my hair was a complete mess, and, I hate to admit, kind of dirty. I mean, in my defense... OK, there isn't one really. Let's just say I was really depressed and hadn't showered for several days - barely even left my bed for the whole week end... plus a few days... Yes. It's that sad - and really disgusting... But a new week, a new home, a new life. I hope.

I went into the shower and sighed happily as the warm water caressed my skin. WOW. You wouldn't believe how good it felt (well, maybe you would - especially after reading that rather disturbing confession of mine). I shaved my legs and armpits (believe me, it Needed to be done!), and washed my hair.

Wrapping myself up in a towel, I left the shower and searched one of the many packing boxes for my blow-dryer, but when I couldn't find it I decided to simply towel-dry my hair. After quickly applying a coat of mascara to my lashes, I went out of the bathroom and over to one of the boxes marked as "clothes".

I hadn't really unpacked anything yet, but as I slipped into underwear, a pair of black shorts (this is California, I no longer live in New York, remember?) and a tight, white, button-up blouse, I promised myself that I'd start the unpacking as soon as I got home from school.

I found my jewelry box and put a pair of simple silver earrings the size of one of my fists in my ears, and my grandmother's silver ring on my finger.

Hearing my mother down in the kitchen, I went downstairs to join her for breakfast. It was one of the very few rules my mom had, that we ate breakfast together. She said it was important to see each other at least once a day, and it was just convenient to do so at breakfast since we ate the same time anyway.

'I'm driving you to school, honey, so you won't have to walk', she said, and I felt a weight lifting from my chest. Good, then I wouldn't have to worry about getting there late. 'We'll have to get you a car, now, though. So that you can get around without telling me your every move', she continued. See - my mom is cool.

'I think we'd better start with getting me a license first, mom', I laughed. Being the city girl I was, I hadn't needed one until now.

'Oh, yeah. I forgot about that', mom said, sounding sheepish.

I had lived in New York my whole life, but my mom was originally from California, so I had my grand-parents here. Well, the ones on my mom's side, anyways. I had never met the ones on my dad's. That's not really that strange, I guess, since I'd never even met my dad - that I could remember. He left barely two months after I was born. My mom was so angry she burned all of the pictures she had of him, and all the other stuff of his that he left behind. She says she regrets burning the pictures, though, since she doesn't have anything to show me what the bastard looks like. My mom really knows how to hold a grudge, something I did not inherit from her. I mean, seriously, you do not wanna get on her bad side, something I try desperately not to every day. No, it's really not that hard - she's a kind woman, and you'd have to do something seriously bad to piss her off. Like leaving her alone in New York City with a two months old baby...