Emily Collins. Jasmine and Alex were behaving weird earlier but I let that slide, they had weird things going on between the two of them that they needed to sort out and I wasn't going to jump into that mess, yet. Taking sides? I definitely wasn't about that anymore. Connor used his finger to rim his little teacup and smiled to himself as he did so. I remember him doing that when we were younger as well. It used to be so weird when I first noticed him doing it. But I guess, after years of being his friend, it kind of grew on me and then, when he didn't do it. That used to concern be at those times, not sure why. His blue eyes are focused on the outside world, watching as the cars go pass and the people. I figure that this must be new to him, the busy streets and all this loud chatter. But maybe not, he was kind of used to this, the l

Emily Collins. The air was chilly when we stepped out of the plane, following after the other passengers and I feel it, the familiarity hits me in waves and waves, quickly making reality set in. Memories from six years ago flood through my mind in a fast pace as I walk pass certain things, everything is new looking and shiny, as always, they tend to do revamps on almost everything in this town after every three years or so, that's what I seem to remember anyway, that, and a lot of other things, important things, hurtful things. Memories of everyone I knew, my old friends, all of us together, going on family trips, coming here to this place, it rings in my mind just like it has rang that day I had left, like a warning bell. “Damn, who be owning a limo though?” Jasmine jokes and I turn to look at where her eyes are set and I see it, the black limo parked and waited

Emily Collins. My feet stop at a familiar doorway— everything else in the house looks new and shiny, except this, this place, this door, it looks old and dusty, as if everyone were too afraid to touch it. Too afraid to uncover my old self, I take in a deep, heavy breath and step back away from the dark door, not understanding why anyone wouldn't want to use the third floor for anything? Everything from today is just clouding my mind right now and everything is much more confusing and complex than I would have ever thought it would be. I want to know what happened in these years, even though, I know it isn't my right to know. I shouldn't dig into these things, especially when I was the one who left, willingly. I remember, Richard and Eliza making plans to turn the third floor into ballroom skylight thing so why not do it then? Since I've been gone with no promises of ever coming back to thi

Emily Collins. I was slowly starting to lose it. I was going to crack soon, too, I just knew it. It was a waiting game on my part now. Waiting to crack. And unleash my beast. It was all because of those eyes, that smile and that. . . Oh my god, I can't believe I'm about to say that but it's all that thin, slutty, bitches fault. . . Kacie fucking Blackwell! That nice side that she tried to flaunt at me, ohh, I knew it all, too, well. I knew that that was her game, her plan. I didn't even want to know why her and Connor were so goody goody all of a sudden. I had thought he hated her and she felt mutually to him. Oh, how wrong was I? They way she shoved her diamond rings at me, she always loved the bigger things in life, always wanted everything she couldn't have and she had it now— for a

Emily Collins. A vaguely familiar voice whispers in my ear and I shiver, grasping that voice further and pulling it deeper into my memory box. I'm roughly turned around in the person's arms by the rough and tight hold they have on my arms, turning me to face them and my eyes immediately opening, coming face to face with one of my longest most favorite nightmares. Electric green eyes. They stare back at me, too. With all sorts of emotions and feelings swirling in those orbs. His tall height hovers over me, casting a huge and dark shadow over and around my small figure, so daringly and threatening that I gulp, my throat suddenly to dry and my heart suddenly to loud, silently cursing to myself in my mixed up head. “Elizabeth Kingsley,” He softly breaths. My heart, My stom