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Rosewood is a city in Florida, and it's the city we've recently moved to. I hope it's a good start...for laughs, it's going to be the worst thing in my life...

“Wonderful city and beautiful house. Let’s go in and see the house inside.” Dad said excitedly, as if we had moved to Paris or something.

"Come on, kids, don't be lazy," said my mother. Don't ask me why she calls me kids. She has kids of 17 and 20. She's always like that.

We entered the two-story house; it's good compared to our New York house, with a good living room with a big TV, four rooms, and a big kitchen.

"Olivia, take care of your sister until we get into the bags," my mother said. "I take care of my little sister. She is only a year old. She is very beautiful. She has thick brown hair and green eyes. I just love her so much."

“Chris honey, can you help me with these things?” my mother said, carrying some boxes as if she couldn’t carry them alone. This family is driving me crazy.

And Chris, that's my dear brother. He's 20. He's always overprotective. He's got those dark blue eyes, that white skin, black hair, toned body, and big muscles. He's good-looking, and I love him so much, but I hate that he's always so protective. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

"So what do you think of the house, Olivia?" Dad asked after he put the boxes on the floor.

"Good," I said carelessly with my hands in the pockets of my brown jacket and headphones on since we left our old house and went to my room, leaving them looking at each other sadly.

I entered my room; I decorated it myself. It is black and white, with a mattress in the middle, and on either side of it are two small square tables, a small desk with my computer next to it, and some pictures, and there is a small library with some books, a wardrobe, and a private bathroom.

I lay a little in bed looking at the ceiling, thinking about everything that happened. I've never been like this. A lot of bad things happened to me in the last year, and she's the one that changed me. I've become introverted and don't talk much... My family tried to help me, but I wouldn't let them. I like me like this sometimes; it helps me come to terms with this hateful world.

I forgot to introduce you; my name is Olivia George Michaelson. I'm 17 years old and in the last fun of high school. I have white skin; when they see me, everyone thinks I have a disease. I hate when it happens. Yes, I was sick before, but I'm not now. I have blue eyes like my brother and hair. Tall build and toned body, I'm a normal girl... hey, I'm not totally normal; you'll find out later, and so will my family....

It's five in the morning now. I know it's too early, but my dad insisted we have the day in the new city from the start. I've fallen asleep a bit, and I have nothing to do after that...

"Olivia Michaelson," said my mother, screaming, "I hate it when you call me by my name. She only calls me when she's mad at me."

I woke up frightened and said, "What?"

"You're going to be late for your first day of school," my mom said.

"What? When, damn it, did you enroll my name in school?" I said it with outrage.

"Olivia is your language! She should be ready; school starts at eight," said my mother.

“Shit,” I said angrily.

“I heard that,” my mother said.

“I know.” I said it out loud, and then I looked at the alarm clock that was placed next to a small lamp on the comodino, and it was a quarter past seven.

"What a fucking start," I said, then went to the bathroom, took a cold shower, and got dressed.

"What a fucking start," I said, then went to the bathroom, took a cold shower, and got dressed.

And it was 7:40. I went down and found them all in the kitchen talking together.

“You look great, Liv,” my father said with a smile, as he called me by that name. I only like that name. My family calls me by that name.

"Thank you," I said without expression and went to the fridge to drink some water.

“Are you ready for the first day of school?” My mother asked with such enthusiasm.

“Just like any day,” Olivia said, then put her headphones in her ear and walked out of the kitchen.

"Olivia, your brother will take you to school," said my mother.

"I'm not a baby with two legs," I said bored.

“Just to be safe,” said my dad, who was putting on his overcoat to go to work.

"Ready?" Chris asked me with that smile that adorns the gap.

"Whatever," I said and headed towards Chris's Porsche.

Of course you wonder where my brother got that expensive car; he owns his own business next to the university. Of course my father helped him buy it.

"Olivia," Chris said.

"Hmmm," I hum so he knows I'm listening.

“Are you ready for that experience?” Kris said,

"It's just a day like all other days, nothing new," I said as I looked out the window.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chris asked.

“No,” I said as I leaned my head against the car window.

"It's going to be all right...here we come," said Chris, and he and I got out of the car and parked in front of the high school.

"Take care of yourself, honey," Chris said, then hugged me and kissed my forehead.

"Bye," I said to him and then entered that school.

Well, this is so suspicious; everyone is looking at their mouths open and mumbling to each other. Well, this makes me uncomfortable. Come on, Olivia, come on. They're just a bunch of teens who can't close their eyes. Damn it, this is so nerve-wracking.

I made my way to the principal's office... I knocked lightly until he allowed me to enter.

"How can I help you?" The manager said with a smile,

"I'm new here at school; I registered my papers about two hours ago," I said, standing in front of his desk.

"Oh yes, Miss Michaelson, of course, that's your schedule, and that's your locker number. Have a nice day," said the manager, handing me my class schedule and locker key.

"Thank you," I said without expression, and I walked out and went to my first class, and it was history. I love history; I lived most of it, so it will be easy for me.

I walked into the class hoping everyone would stop looking at me like that, then I walked up to the teacher and whispered in his ear and told him I was the new girl.

“Students, please welcome your new classmate Olivia Michaelson. Miss Michaelson, please take a seat,” said the teacher, George, and pointed to a chair next to a girl who was wearing makeup and seemed to be the schoolgirl that no one could resist.

“Oh my God, I’m going to sit next to that girl.” The girl said disgustingly, "I’m going to punch her in the face, that girl."

“Someone is jealous because there is someone more beautiful than him,” said a young man in front, laughing, and everyone laughed at his words. 11

“Keep quiet now,” said Mr. George angrily. Then everyone was silent, and the class ended, and there were several more classes until lunch. “Lunch break.”

I walked down the aisle where the lockers were to put some books, and my locker number was 246. I kept looking at the lockers until I found mine.

“I found you,” I said, and opened the closet and heard some muttering from the people, and they all contained the same saying, “She took that closet; she’s going to suffer so much.” “I wonder what will happen to her that he won’t leave her like this.” “I feel pity for that new girl.