"do you know how hard i've tried to become who you want me to be?"

-scars, allison iraheta

"So, what's the deal with you and Asher?"

It was phrased as a casual question, but I could hear the underlying threat and it seemed that the rest of the group heard as well. Eugenia and Katrina immediately engaged the boys in conversation, raising their voices deliberately, while Irene pretended to be engrossed in her phone. All of them were on alert, ready to intervene if anything happened.

They weren't doing it out of any sense of loyalty to me, no. They were doing it because they knew that Georgia would shred me to a pulp the moment I made a wrong step and they wanted to be there to prove that they were on her side, not mine.

It was human nature after all - we defected to the ones who held the most authority. Even if they didn't abide by that 'rule', they would choose Georgia anyway. They would always choose Georgia, because what I had done would forever remain as something unforgivable.

"Nothing," I replied honestly, pushing my food around on my plate. "We're not even friends."

It was true, whether Georgia chose to believe or not. There was nothing between Asher and me. No matter what deluded ideas Asher had about whatever our relationship could be classified as, to me we weren't friends. We were just schoolmates, acquaintances at most.

"Really," Georgia crossed her arms, lips pursed. "It didn't seem like nothing yesterday when he dragged you into a classroom - an empty classroom, might I add - and locked the door."

She exhaled slowly, almost languidly, the way a lion would while observing its trapped prey.

"Why don't you try again," she smiled, though her eyes were cold. "Come on, spill the deets."

To any bystander who didn't know Georgia, it would've seemed like she was just another persistent friend trying to wheedle out information on my latest hook-up. But to us, those who did somewhat know Georgia in our own twisted way, we knew to back up before everything went up in smoke.

Despite that, I wasn't a weakling. I wasn't a pushover, not anymore. If Georgia wanted to attack me, I would gladly fight back. I wasn't willing to, but I would. Asserting my authority was my only way to regain some control not only on my surroundings, but on myself.

"Georgia," I summoned every ounce of authority I had and fixed her with a hard glare. "Stop pushing this subject. I said that there's nothing between us, and there will never be anything between us. Watch yourself."

She glared back defiantly, eyes glinting dangerously, before turning away and striking up a conversation with Chase Holten. It was as if nothing had happened, with the way she was smiling and laughing.

Remarkable, the way high school taught us to swap faces as easily as breathing.

"I have to say, you handled that really well," Katrina commented cheerfully. Even without turning, I could tell that she was smiling, bubbly as always. "Most people would cower before Georgia's almighty rage."

"I would feel offended that you lump me in the category 'most people'," I said dryly. "But then I remember that your opinion is as valuable to me as dog excretion."

"You're interesting, Felicity," Katrina's voice lost its humour. "You pretend to be so prim and proper when we know that you're not."

"Shut up."

"Tell me, does 2013 ring any bells? Actually, don't tell me - you've conveniently forgotten about it just as you have everything else that isn't beneficial to you."

I flinched, falling silent.

"Oh wait, I forgot," Katrina continued viciously, "you're above everyone, right? No matter what you do, no matter how severe it is, you can brush it off because you're the high-and-mighty Felicity Williams. And because you don't give a damn about it, the rest of us have to pick up the pieces for you. We have to suffer silently, remembering what happened, while you just continue on your merry way because you have every single thing you could ever wish for."

"Kat, that's enough," Eugenia cut in gently. "We agreed not to bring that up again, even if she deserves it."

I kept my head bowed, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. I knew that Eugenia intended for me to hear the tail end of her words, and I knew that she had intended them to hurt.

After all, I wasn't the only one who had been hurt by the events that had transpired all these years. Katrina's words proved that point, even though I had already known.

We had been a tightly-knit group of friends, and I had reduced us to little more than strangers.

Destroying our relationship and destroying our happiness, just like I always did.

Selfish.

===

It was easy to pretend that everything was okay when you were around others.

The expectations that came with people made it easy to put on a mask and fake that I was an emotionless tyrant, even if the loneliness throbbed inside my chest like a second heart.

But when I was alone, especially in the darkness, the loneliness threatened to swallow me whole.

I stirred my chamomile tea absentmindedly, tabbing the page of my textbook I had been on and putting it back on the shelf. On nights like these, when I felt like I was drowning under the guilt and the memories, I found that tea and a textbook helped. Reading the pointless facts that I never understood grounded me in some inexplicable way, and reminded me that at the end of the day, grades were still what mattered. The people I met in high school would come and go, but my grades would potentially determine my future.

"Oh look, a dog has crawled out of the sewer and is trying to pass off as human. Nice try, but no matter how you pretend you still make me want to retch."

"Do you not understand English? Oh wait, considering how you don't know how to walk properly, I'll just assume that you only understand caveman-speak too."

"Really, you brought this upon yourself. You should've known from day one that I'm not someone to be trifled with. Your pathetic state now can only be blamed on your inability to understand something as simple as hierarchy. Have fun, I heard that mud is great exfoliation."

Still, no matter how I threw myself into a world of confusing facts and false pretences, reminding myself that I deserved it all, their words never stopped hurting.

"Felicity Williams is the worst mistake her parents ever made."

"I didn't think it was possible for a person to be this hateful, but I guess Felicity Williams is just a bag full of nasty surprises, isn't she?"

"I think that if Felicity Williams were to die, it would be a favour to the whole world. Especially if she dies a horrible and painful death, as befits a monster."

I missed feeling like I was able to breathe. Everywhere I went, I felt like I was being suffocated by the looks I was given and the words that seemed to follow me everywhere I went. Remarks about the company I kept, remarks about my family, remarks about me.

But most of all, I missed being myself. I knew that I had lost my real self years ago, had known it the moment my heart stopped feeling hurt at every instance I was left out.

I didn't want to put a label on whatever the thing that twisted and crippled me was, because I was sick of being labelled. I was sick of being branded, words in bold and size 72, when it was something I wasn't. I wasn't that, I wasn't anything. I didn't want to be anything. I just wanted to disappear, because there was no point in me being alive, especially when I felt so helpless. The only time I felt in control was when I was destroying something. And when there was no one else for me to destroy, I destroyed myself. After all, it was this worthless body that forced me through every day, it was this worthless body that hauled me through the sludge of life no matter how I kicked and screamed. It was only fitting that it got hurt in return for every single person it had hurt.

I snuck a glance at the scrapbook tucked away on my shelf, feeling the familiar pinch of guilt and sorrow in my gut. I missed them more than I could bear, missed how we used to be happy. How I used to be happy, even if I got pushed over and left out.

But I couldn't possibly expect them to forget everything and continue merrily, not after I had become such a savage, and especially not after Amanda.

After all, I had grown tired of trying to be a saint. It only made sense that I didn't expect them to be saints either.