I got home with nausea in the pit of my stomach. My brother was sitting on the couch as I walked into the house. His eyes flicked over to me and he shot me a disapproving look. He leaned back against the couch and retured his attention to his phone call, rolling his eyes.

I wished I could tell him why things were the way they were. He deserved to know why I was such a horrible person. He needed to know what I'd done. Yet, I couldn't tell him. I stood there trying to force out the words, but I knew they'd never come out. 

Instead, I turned away and walked up the stairs. Tears poured down my cheeks as I reached my room and shut the door. I heaved in a breath as I leaned against the door and squeezed my eyes shut. It hurt to breath and it hurt to think, so I just slid down the door until I was sitting on the soft carpet. My breath came in sputtering gasps of panic and I couldn't grasp at a single thought of reason.

I replayed my act of treason over and over in my head. The faint smell of smoke filled my nostrils, and it felt like it was suffocating me. The feeling of being caught replayed over and over and I buried my head in my hands. I couldn't believe I'd just done that. I couldn't believe someone had caught me. My arms wrapped around my knees and pulled them to my chest as I let out a quiet sob.

Everything felt so intense. The tears faded away and were replaced by fear for my future. Would they tell? It didn't matter how nice Kalila seemed. The fact of the matter was that I was a horrible person. I kept doing horrid things, even if I did deserve to do them. I'd never done something of that scale. What if the school found out I'd lit someone's jersey on fire? Did he really deserve that?

I sniffed, swiping away my tears as I tried to control my thoughts. I replayed the exercise I had ingrained in my mind; to deep breath, to tell myself it would be okay, and to go to a happy place. I breathed deeply; in out, in out. The tense knot in my chest slowly began to unravel, and I felt like I could breath again. I had to be rational with myself to undo the anxiety. Anxiety wasn't rational.

I made a mistake. Yet, I still had Nina and Stacie. They knew what was best, right? I had to trust in the only people I had left. I had to hope that those two wouldn't tell on me. I had to hope that no one ever found out it was me who set the jersey ablaze.

Nothing would ever be okay, a voice whispered to me. I gripped my knees tighter and tried to tell myself it wasn't true. The tightness in my chest came back again, and I began hyperventilating. Each breath felt like a knife was slicing through my lungs, and my head felt like a muddled mess. 

I was horrible, I told myself. I deserved what I had coming. Those people would tell on me, because no one in the human race was trustworthy; not even myself.

I shook my head, scolding myself for thinking such thoughts. Gritting my teeth, I tried my exercise again. I tried to claw myself out of the depths I had sunken to. It was so difficult to explain to my anxiety that I needed it to let me go. Soon, it did, and I could finally breath. I took in large gulps of air and pushed myself from the ground.

As soon as I sat on the edge of my bed, I noticed I had an incoming video chat from Stacie. For the first time, I ignored it. I turned off my phone, plugged it in to charge, and curled up on my bed. I just wanted to close my eyes and have the world melt away. When I was asleep, I saw horrid things, but they weren't as horrid as my waking thoughts.

§

The next morning, I awoke early to prepare breakfast. Dad's favorite was waffles, so that's what I made. I put extra chocolate chips into the batter, and I smiled as the delicious smell wafted through the house. Nothing made me feel better than doing something nice for my dad and brother. 

Nelson walked in first, sniffing the air. He sat at the kitchen island just as I placed his plate in front of him. He all but inhaled the first waffle, and I couldn't help but smile.

Dad walked in next, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sat down at the island and slapped some papers onto the sleek black surface.

"Dad," I sighed, gently brushing the papers aside. I replaced them with a plate of waffles.

"Thanks, Ki," he said.

I nodded, working on cleaning up the kitchen. "I told you no papers when you're eating. Work can wait, okay?"

"Work can never wait, my dear daughter," he responded.

I laughed, but it was forced. As soon as I finished cleaning, I grabbed my bag from the unoccupied chair at the island and swung it over my shoulder. Sometimes, I couldn't help but feel like my family would be better without me. They didn't need someone that barely spoke with them. They didn't need a monster like me.

As I prepared to walk out of the kitchen, Dad turned to look at me.

"You're not going to eat?"

"I ate before," I lied. I hated lying to him, but I didn't think I could stomach anything.

He wrinkled his brow before nodding. I noticed a sense of unease in his blue eyes; the same ones I inherited. He had the look he used to have with my mother; one like he was trying to decipher me. I couldn't let him worry about me.

"Have a great day!" He chirped.

I nodded and left the kitchen. I didn't expect Nel to say anything to me. He was still angry about my disrespectfulness, but I knew he would never tell Dad. He would never worry him with the topic of me. 

At first, he tried to act like a second parent. After the incident, he wanted to figure out what had changed in me. We were close back then, too. However, I couldn't take the guilt, and I couldn't tell him. We drifted apart, and I hated it.

I ran a hand through my black hair as I stepped outside. It was the same routine as every morning; hop into my car and drive to school. I hated the dread that pooled in my stomach at the thought of stepping into that building. I hated the thought of a punishment waiting for me.

Once I parked, I walked swiftly into the building. No one noticed me, which was a good thing. Maybe those two from the day before had decided to spare me. I had no idea why. If it was the other way around, I wouldn't have let myself get off easy. 

Stacie was waiting for me by my locker. She had her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her red lips. 

"Why didn't you answer me?"

I leaned against my locker, realizing I didn't need anything from it that morning. "I'm sorry, Stac. I was tired and went straight to sleep."

She let out a huff, eyes ablaze. "You're supposed to answer when I call you! You know what I have on you. You know what happens if you disobey."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, glanced down at the dirty floor. I couldn't let it get out. I couldn't. "If you need anything else, call me. I'll answer."

"You better," she hissed. She grabbed my face and brought my eyes to meet hers, her long nails digging into my flesh. She didn't need fake nails to scratch you. "And you're lucky you burnt his jersey. If you hadn't, that would've been the last straw."

She let me go and walked away, and I couldn't help but question our friendship. As I turned away from where she had been standing, I caught sight of someone I never wanted to see again. My breath hitched as the boy from the day before, August, stared at me. He was leaning against a locker a few down from mine, and he was completely alone. His phone was in his hand, but he seemed intent on me. My brow furrowed and I turned to walk away, but he called out to me.

"Kiley, right?"

I slowly nodded.

He stepped closer to me. "Isn't that the girl that runs the school newspaper?"

"Um, yes."

He seemed to be mulling something over. Finally, he pointed to my chin. My fingers followed his gaze and I gasped at the sight of blood on my fingertips as I raised them to my eyes. My cheeks heated and I turned to walk away. This time, he let me. 

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Sooo, thoughts? On Stacie? On Kiley's family? On August? On the story so far?

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-Sarah