Never The Same

Chapter One

Some people think you can forget about bad things once they're over with. And maybe they only think that because they've never suffered through something horrific before. I've tried to let go and look past what almost killed me. I've tried to live like it never even happened. But for me, it's impossible.

I sat next to the window on the bus and as I looked out of it I saw a couple fighting. I watched the guy slap the girl, but she just turned around and walked away. He didn't follow or run after her either. He stood there like he was shocked too.

Traffic was awful, so the bus hasn't moved for five minutes. The other kids are loud and obnoxious, but I tune them out when I put my earbuds in. I press play for music and a song that I thought I'd never hear again came on. I pull my earbuds out, but the song still plays through my head and it won't stop.

A tear slides down the side of my nose and I wipe it away. The bus starts to move and we hit a pothole in the road. My phone falls out of my lap and onto the floor. I bend over and grab it, but the bus hits another bump and it slips out of my hand. It didn't bother me anymore though, I couldn't care less.

I rest my head against the window and close my eyes. I woke up early this morning, and couldn't fall asleep for a while. I didn't realize we were at school, and everyone gets off. Someone tapped me on a the shoulder, so I look up to see a tall guy with brown hair and baby blue eyes.

"I think you dropped this," he says, holding out my phone with the earbuds wrapped around. I take it from his hand and for a moment, our fingers touch, but I pull away.

"Um, yeah. Thanks," I respond.

"What's your name?"

"Ella, but my friends call me Ellie."

"We'll have to talk sometime, Ellie. I'll see you later."

"See you later."

We get off the bus and go inside the school. I walk to the left and he goes to the right. After I take a few steps, I look back to see him, but when I do, I see him turn around as well. He looks at me and smiles, so I smile back. My phone rings and I answer it.

"Hello," I say.

"Hey," he says from down the hall. "I forgot to tell you, my name's Luke."

"I know."

"You aren't going to ask me how I got your number?"

"Well, you did have my phone, so..."

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later."

He hangs up the phone and waves to me. I wave back and walk up the stairs where my friend meets me by my locker. I walk faster, until my phone rings. I answer it.

"Hello?" There wasn't an answer. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

I walk down the hall to Jenna and she walks towards me. We make weird faces at each other until we finally reach each other. We've been friends for about two years now. I don't think that there's anyone or anything that can change that.

"Who were you talking to," Jenna asks.

"I don't know, there wasn't an answer."

"Oh, probably wrong number then."

"Yeah."

We go to homeroom and set our stuff in our assigned seats. Jenna gets our her history notes and we walk around the hallways studying. We had a test in two days, but we never study outside of school and this was the only time we really had.

The bell for homeroom rang and soon after the bell for first mod rang. We were already on the third floor of the building, so Jenna and I only had to walk to the other side of the building, where our history class was.

Miss Kent was the teacher for history. She was more like a sister to us, rather than a teacher. Jenna and I are her favorite students, which is partially why we like to sit in the front near her desk. I'm always in her classes for study halls and lunch, but Jenna has lunch during seventh period and I have it sixth.

We enter the room and sit down. I read the board with the instructions on it. Miss Kent originally wanted to be an English teacher, but ended up with history. Every Monday, which happens to be today, we write stories on current events.

The teacher would give us a picture of something or someone and maybe even a little background information. Then, the students would get out their journals and write a story based on the picture or what they think might of happened. After we hand in our stories, Miss Kent would share the real one.

"A juvenile was released from custody in California," she says. "A name was not given, but a picture was. Here you go."

I didn't need a name. I didn't even need a full picture, just looking into his eyes was enough for me to recognize him. His cold, dead, dark brown eyes. I could never forget the look of his face or the sound of his voice.

Tears were rushing down my face. I couldn't help it. After wiping them away, I jumped up and asked Miss Kent if I could leave. She just nodded her head. As I opened the door, I noticed people to the left of me, but they were blurry. I ran to the right and down the stairs. I stopped, because it was all too familiar.

I was in the woods, running for my life. I didn't want to stop, but I had to. My sides were aching so bad, it felt like any minute I was going to explode. I was bent over, breathing deeply for any kind of oxygen I could get. I looked around and saw trees, so many of them surrounding me, and that's when I realized there was no where to run.

I opened the door to the girls bathroom and entered the last stall. I locked the door and put the seat down, so I could sit. I couldn't stop crying and I tried so hard to breathe.

I looked up at the tall trees and found one I could climb. My arms were shaking badly, so it was hard to concentrate on getting up. I put my hand over my mouth to stop the heavy breathing and prevent him from hearing me.

Words couldn't describe how I felt. I was brought back to a time that I thought was over and done with. I thought the worst was over. But now, I know, it's just beginning.