My alarm goes off bright and early the next morning. Without opening my eyes, I reach over switching it off. My body feels so groggy like I haven't slept in days. My mind is the total opposite. It's racing, going over every scenario that can play out today. The scenarios ranged from forgetting a pencil to a complete meltdown in front of the class. A loud yawn escapes my lips as I rub my eyes. I'm glad no one was here last night. I had woken up several times in cold sweats, crying and screaming out for Johnny. My whole body trembles as the horrible memories of my dreams come flooding back. It's always the same. That night plays on a constant loop in my mind nonstop. I doubt I'll ever be able to get those horrendous visions out of my mind, the blood and screaming. A shiver runs through me as an image of his lifeless body surfaces. Before I break down, forcing it back into the darkest place in my mind.

Today is the first day of class and my new beginning. My nerves are already bad enough without having to think about my past. High school was a horrible experience. Thanks to my history with drugs, I drifted around. Not caring what I looked like. I wore whatever I woke up in. Even if it was pajamas and a fuzzy pair of house shoes, it didn't matter. I wouldn't have been able to get through the days if it hadn't been for my trusty water bottle. It usually held a mixture of vodka and Sprite. Depending on the level of intoxication I wanted, sometimes I would toss a few pills into it.

But this year is going to be different, I silently remind myself. It's a new town, a new school, and a brand new me.

The shower room is empty except for another girl. I can hear her humming some random song a few stalls down. The water is lukewarm while I rush to wash my body. I'm not a morning person. Showering seems to help wake me up. It's freezing when I finally shut the water off, grabbing my towel. I'm glad I got here when I did. It's beginning to fill up fast. There are only a few open stalls.

Walking back into my room. I'm thankful to be alone. I allow the towel to slide down onto the bed. Staring at my reflection in the mirror always makes me sad. My naked, damp skin is flawless besides my scar. It's a hideous reminder of that night. And it will haunt me forever. I can never escape from beneath it. Both of my breasts hang loosely in front of me. My left one has always been slightly bigger than the right one. Over the years, I have tried to embrace my differences. But I'm still self-conscious about it

My drenched, dark wild curls cover my face. They appear limp and lifeless. Each curl sags slightly downward. Water droplets still glisten, clinging to my skin. Others are escaping, randomly cascading down my body. Each makes a tiny plop as it lands on the wooden floor below me. A small puddle now gathers at my feet.

After an eternity of digging through my closet, I finally decided on something. A tight pair of black leggings, with a crisscross pattern up the side, revealing my skin beneath them. I choose a form-fitting red T-shirt with a black tank top underneath it. To hide my excess rolls. Using a few tips from Hope, I finish my hair in half the time. A simple ponytail. It's nothing fancy, but it will do.

I use the extra time to do a little more to my face. I brought a little makeup from home with me, but not much. I look over at the small bag that holds all my face products. It's old and worn out. The zipper busted at the end so it doesn't close all the way. A few unsharpened eyebrow pencils are peeking out.

I don't think Sky would mind if I borrow a little of hers. I'm surprised she had left it here, but relieved. Random items escape as I pull her oversized maroon caboodle towards me. I have no clue what some of the things are. What even is the difference between mascara and brow gel? I take a few moments to inspect each item before deciding on the basics. Things I'm familiar with and know how to use. I attempt to do my eyes with a smoky grey color. Now I wish I had paid more attention to how she applied my eye shadow for the bonfire. I know it's darker at the bottom and the color lightens the farther up it goes. I can't remember if she did the top or the bottom first. I guess I'll wing it. Even going brave by highlighting the underside of my brows with a shimmering white. I'm happy with the results. Now to add the finishing touches. My hand shakes as I apply a thin layer of liner along the bottom of my eyes. The mascara is thicker than I had intended, but it looks decent.

I can't put my finger on it, but something is still missing. The more I stare into the mirror, the clearer it becomes. I never wear blush, so I know it's not that. Maybe I need to add a little color to my lips. Not wanting to be bold, I choose a light pinkish color. I only use chapstick but this is a new me, a grown-up version. Glancing back in the mirror, I don't recognize myself. I have completely changed my outer appearance, but I like it.

It's only a ten-minute walk to my first class, but it's already 6:45 a.m.Being late on the first day is never a good thing. I walk as quickly through the campus, which is now overcrowded with students. I'm glad I opted to grab a hoodie on the way out. It's freezing outside, and the morning breeze is harsh. The temperature has dropped significantly since I've been here.

The class is halfway full when I walk in. Most of the students are sitting in the front few rows. This classroom is very similar to the one from orientation. It's a little smaller, with the same bucket seats. The major difference is that these are more of a maroon color. And instead of presidents hanging along the walls, there are large oil paintings. Many of them are portraits of different people. I recognize some as famous British and European authors. Others I don't.

Both sides of the classroom walls contain the same oak bookshelves. The overflowing shelves have thousands of books crammed into them. The books have been carefully separated by color and size. Along with I'm assuming genre. A giant porcelain statue of a man sitting in a chair sits in the far corner. There's a small child seated in his lap reading from a book. The detailed work on it is amazing, from their intricate clothing to their tiny eyelashes.

Trying not to disturb anyone, I choose a seat farther towards the back. As quietly as I can, I slide into the seat, placing my bag at my feet. I pull my books out, organizing them neatly on the small desk. My body tenses as someone's arm grazes mine as they slip into the seat beside me. I don't bother looking up. I know who it is from the scent of his cologne.

"Can't you sit somewhere else, Hayden?" I roll my eyes, glancing over at him. I can't help but notice how sexy he looks. The white tee he is wearing hugs snuggly against his body. His perfectly sculpted abs are visible through its thin material. His tattoos look even more attractive in this lighting. I almost melt as his deep blue eyes stare into mine. His serious but still goofy little grin is plastered in place.

"I could, but I don't want to," he whispers, inching his entire body closer towards me. Our arms are almost touching. I can feel the warmth radiating off of him. "It's more fun to aggravate you. Now shhh the teachers here. Don't want you getting me into trouble" he lowers his voice to almost a hiss. His eyes are playful as he places his finger to his lips, pretending to be serious. It takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from his as the teacher begins her lecture.

"Welcome class, my name is Mrs. Roberts," she introduces herself as she walks up to the podium. A giant stack of papers blocks my view of her features. With one quick movement, she places the papers down in front of her. Using her free hand to adjust the small black microphone attached to the podium. "We will be embarking on this journey together, you and I. I will be with you every step of the way. So will your classmates. Some of them will become your lifelines. Don't be afraid to ask the person next to you for help. We will only succeed if we all work together. So let's begin," she says as she clears her throat.

"If everyone could, please take out their syllabus and turn to the second page. You will see we don't have a lot of homework in this class," She pauses, taking a moment to uncap her water bottle, before guzzling a few big gulps and placing the lid back on it.

Mrs. Roberts is a younger woman with flaming red hair. She keeps it neatly pinned in a low tight bun behind her ears. Her slim face pairs perfectly with her thin black-framed glasses. The only makeup she appears to be wearing is a tiny amount of eyeliner. The darkness from it makes her bright green eyes stand out from behind her glasses. Her natural beauty shines through without the aid of cosmetics.

She even dresses better than most teachers I've seen. Today she's wearing a tight-fitting long black skirt that tumbles below her knees. A small slit trails up the back, revealing her long slender legs. An oversized fluffy pink sweater hugs her midsection, revealing her slim waist and average breasts. Several gold bands adorn her neck and wrists. Each of them clangs loudly together when she moves.

"We will follow the syllabus pretty closely. I might mix up a few things here and there, but mainly we will follow it. You will, however, be responsible for writing a journal entry every night. It can be about anything you want. It is yours only and completely private. I will not ask you to share it with the class. Don't worry. Sometimes I will assign a certain topic, but most often it will be free writing. I will not be reading your entries. But, I will be checking them randomly. So I can make sure you're doing them," she mumbles, lowering her glasses as she looks out over the class.

"This is your chance to express yourselves. Freely with no judgment. No criticism" She uses her hands to talk. The soft jangle of her bands hitting one another is calming. "The first journal entry is due at the end of class today. It is a free write. Whatever comes to your mind. Please begin," she instructs us, sitting at her desk.

"And must I remind you all, you are young adults, not children? Act like it!" she scowls sternly. Directing her attention toward a group of girls giggling in the front row. I recognize one of them immediately. It's the blonde girl who was with Hayden yesterday. Serves her right, I think silently to myself.

Staring down at the blank paper in front of me, I have no clue what to write. Looking around, everyone is writing, except me. Even Hayden is busy scribbling. Pressing my pen against the paper, I hesitantly write,

"I have a secret. Well, I have a lot of secrets."Before I know it, class is over.

I ended up writing a full page. Of course, I never revealed my secrets. But it felt good to at least admit that they're in my life. That they are real. And not some figment of my imagination. It feels like a good first step. Even though I've taken a lot of first steps in my life. I always end up screwing up and taking ten more back. Sometimes it's like I will never get ahead.

"See you later," Hayden smirks as he walks past me, his shoulder bumps against mine.

I hurriedly place my journal on the large stack and head to my next class. Hopefully, he won't be in it.