Two weeks had passed since Damien Mann first told me about Jackie Marks. My recovery was rapid, and I was finally well enough to be sent home. I asked Doctor Smith about the nurse that had visited me upon waking. He informed me that no-one fitting that description worked there. I began to question whether my encounter with the beautiful woman was real or imagined.

   Eventually, I regained my memories of which I was, Lizzie Gordon. But it was as if I were looking through a photo album or watching a movie from a distant place in my mind. I felt no emotional attachment to the people or recollections there. I felt uncomfortable living in a family of virtual strangers. The only one I felt at ease around was my five-year-old sister Emma. She was happy around me. She embraced my being, accepting me for who I am now, not who I was before. Everyone else seemed edgy. I felt as though I was under a microscope. They were guardedly watching me, aware of my personality change since the accident.

     Barely recognizing my own face I winced each time I saw my own reflection. Startled by my image I covered the mirrors in my room. Today, I was returning to school for the first time since the accident. When it came to social status I was extremely low on the totem pole, but now that I’d killed Jackie Marks, high-school sweetheart, I knew my position socially would be nothing more than dust.

     Frantically, I searched the closet, looking for something to wear.   ”Black . . . Black . . . Black . . .” I said, ripping the clothes from the drawer and recklessly throwing them over my shoulder onto the floor. “Ugh, don’t I own anything other than black?” I shrieked. My five- year-old sister Emma heard me and sauntered into the room.

     “You always wear black.”

     “Well, not any more, Emma. Don’t I own anything pink or purple?”

     “Just legging’s,” she said, pulling them from the dresser and handing them to me.

     “Skulls and crossbones, I should’ve known.” Defeated, I was forced to get dressed. I pulled on a black skirt, black shirt and the pair of hot pink leggings with skulls. I uncovered the mirror and stared at my reflection. The girl staring back at me seemed to be a stranger.

     “Don’t you want your necklace?” Emma said handing me what appeared to be nothing more than a dog collar with spikes.

     “Nah, I think I’ll skip that today.” Emma looked at me with sheer surprise. “What about lipstick,” she said pointing to the tube on my dresser.

     I picked it up examining it closely. “Black . . . Why am I not surprised? Don’t I have any other make-up?” Emma shook her head, no. Deciding I already looked disturbing; I skipped the black lipstick, grabbed my back pack and headed downstairs. To my astonishment Damien Mann was standing at the end of the staircase waiting for me. His midnight black hair laid wisped across his forehead and hung over his eyes. I studied him, taking him in slowly. Black finish colored his nails, and his eyes were traced so deeply in dark liner that it hid the strength of his emerald green eyes.

     “I came to give you a ride,” he said.

     “I’d rather walk.”

     “School is at least a mile from here. It’s cold outside.”

     “Then I’ll take the bus.”

     “Bus?” Damien expressed amusement. “They’ll eat you alive!” he hissed.

     “Well, then I’ll get a ride from my mother.”

     “She just left for work,” he said smiling wickedly.

     "My father can take me."

     “He’s the one who asked me to drive you.”

     “Seriously, Damien, my parents despise you.”

     “Guess they had a change of heart. Your mom needed to get to work, and your dad needed to take Emma to school. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Are you afraid to ride with me?”

     “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you think that?”

     “Because you’ve been dodging the idea since I mentioned it.”

     “Look, I’ll ride with you but the idea of being your girlfriend is really creeping me out.” Damien lowered his eyes. I knew he was crushed. “Don’t be mad. I just haven’t been myself since the accident.”

     “We used to be best friends. I wish I never kissed you,” he said.

     “We’re going to be late.” I tried changing the subject. Damien was annoyed by this, and he stormed out the door. His black coat blew wildly in the wind and dusted the top of his Doc Martin boots. He made his way toward the car, cursing me under his breath. I kept my distance walking slowly behind him. Climbing inside the car, he slammed the door. Violently he revved the engine.

     “You shouldn’t do that,” I said, sliding onto the seat next to him. “It ruins the engine.”

     “Shut up, Lizzie!”

     “Why are you being mean to me?”

     “I’m frustrated.”

     “Why?”

     Damien laughed sarcastically. “Two weeks ago you couldn’t get enough of me. Now you detest me."

     “No I don't."

     “Really, you said I creep you out.”

     I sat quietly, offering no reply."

     “That’s what I thought!” he said annoyed by my silence. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but when you figure it out, let me know!” The car squealed to a stop in the school parking lot. Damien got out and kicked the door closed.

     I could feel the lump rising in my throat and tears burned my eyes. Damien had walked halfway to the entrance before he realized I wasn’t behind him. Abruptly he stopped. Turning to find me, his eyes met my gaze. At that moment, something inside him softened toward me, and he came back.

     Opening the car door, he asked, “What are you doing?” Tears streaked my face, and I wiped them away with my sleeve. Damien knelt down beside me, placing his hand on my leg. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “Your first day back is hard enough. You don’t need me acting like a jerk.” He brushed the hair from my eyes and gently dried my tears with his thumb. I felt bad for what I had said. He really wasn't that creepy at all. His shiney black hair was always perfectly styled and his face was really quite striking. Some days looking more sinister than others.

     “Are you nervous?” he asked and I shook my head, yes. Tenderly he placed his hand over mine and squeezed it affectionately.

     My eyes reluctantly met his. It was then I realized that lurking underneath his dark exterior laid a gentle soul, one that truly cared about me. Taking my hand he helped me from the car.

    He held my hand as we headed toward the entrance of the school. As we walked through the hall my presence was met with accusing eyes. Damien stayed close acting like my protector. After grabbing books from my locker, he walked me to my first period class. After each period, it was the same. He was there waiting, making sure I was okay.

     Third Period English was the hardest. I don’t know how it happened, but like instinct, I sat down at Jackie Marks desk. Quickly I was reminded by Tina Lawton that it wasn’t my desk and that I needed to move. My classmates sneered at me as if I had spit on Jackie’s shrine.

     Swiftly, I moved to the only other desk, mine. I stared at the empty seat for the next fifty minutes until the bell rang. After class, Damien was waiting for me, and he walked me to lunch. That would be when the first crisis occurred. Lila Hutchins appeared with the cheerleading squad. Like second nature, I smiled and waved hello.

     “What are you doing, Lizzie?” Damien yanked down my arm. “Are you crazy? Why’d you do that?” I looked at him dazed. Before I could answer him Lila Hutchins was standing in front of me, head cocking to the side and hand on her hip.

     “Are you seriously waving to me? You’re the reason my best friend is dead!” Damien pulled me close sheltering me from the storm that had been unleashed. “If you so much as even look at me again I’ll . . .”

     “Give it a rest Lila. It was an accident,” Damien said.

     “Was it an accident she waved, or an accident she killed Jax?”

     “Both!”

     “Whatever freak!”

     “Take off Lila, or I’ll I stick those pom-poms where the sun don’t shine!”

     “Just keep your crazy girlfriend away from me!”

     “Got it! Now leave!” he demanded. Lila rolled her eyes and walked off in a huff.

     “What the hell were you thinking?” Damien asked.

     “I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

     “Not sure? You waved to Jackie’s best friend. What’s going on with you?”

     I wanted to tell him, but feared he’d think me crazy. When I saw Lila memories of her flooded my mind. Undeniable emotions rose from inside me and without thinking I waved to her. Why this happened, was unclear. Recollections of our friendship clouded my mind seeming so vivid and real. But how could that be? Damien and Chloe were the only real friends I ever had, and Chloe moved last summer.

     “HELLO. . . . Anyone home?” Damien said poking me. I turned to look at him, but my attention was soon diverted.

That’s when he appeared.