"Is that her? 

                                   "I think so..."

                                                                  "Wait, wasn't she the one who-,"

                                                                                                       "Who killed her parents? Yup. She's heartless."

                                                  "C'mon guys, if she killed her parents she wouldn't be roaming the streets right now." 

The grip on my book bag's strap tightened, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. It was expected; all the little rumors and looks of disgust. What else could you expect of people who didn't know anything about me? I begged my aunt not to make me come back here. I asked her, pleaded that I go to a different school. A school where no one knew me, but she didn't care. I'm aware of the looks she gives me, they're just as disgusted as hateful as the ones these people are giving me, because she thinks I killed them too. She believes in their lies and I know she hates my guts. 

Guess blood isn't always thicker than water. 

I made my way down the cluttered hallways, searching for my class and with each step I made I grew smaller and smaller until I felt like a smudge on the floor. The people would move out of the way like I was crossing the Red Sea with Moses; moving aside and out of my way, fearful of even touching so much as a hair. 

I didn't care anymore. I wasn't donning a poker face. I was an empty shell of who I used to be. My parents died in a fire and I was the only survivor. Not my mom, not my dad or baby brother. I was the only one who survived. But I wasn't really living anymore. I was simply living out my death. I'm already dead on the inside. The sharp dagger of their words don't scathe me a bit. I'm uncaring as uncaring can get. I just didn't want the attention. 

"One should never shy away from the attention they deserve." I think about my mother's words sometimes and I have to wonder, did I deserve this attention?

My feet stopped before class 310. I looked down at my crumpled schedule for a moment to make sure I was going in the right classroom.

Psychology 101 RM: 310

Professor Choi

I seemed to be in the right place. With sweaty palms I took hold of the old copper knob and turned it; the classroom's chatter turning into quiet whispers. I entered slowly, closing the door behind me before bowing to the teacher who sat on the brown desk. "I've been expecting you." His voice was deep, filled with authority no one would dare question, but his eyes didn't seem to match. When I looked up at them they seemed warm, a bit mysterious. It was...nice. I wasn't used to an uncaring look ever since the incident. 

"You don't have to introduce yourself if you're not comfortable. I know what it feels like to be put on the spot. Take a seat in the last seat, forth row." With a curt nod, I did as instructed, relief washing over me once I knew I didn't have to make a fool of myself. Everyone already knew my name anyway. I was, 'that murder' and 'the girl who barbeque-d her parents.' 

"Now, let's go back to the subject at hand. Dreams. Why do we dream and what do they have to do with psychology?"

--

The bell rang angrily, informing the faculty and students of another school day ended. With my bag in hand I took the books that I needed out of my locker carefully, making sure not to drop any. 

"Hey, you're the girl who killed off her parents, right?" A few snickers proceeded the guy's question. Only, it seemed more like a statement than anything. 

I chose to ignore them and continued about minding my own business. I didn't need any more negativity under my belt. A sudden shock of pain seared through the front of my shoulder as he shoved me into the lockers. "Hey! I asked you a damn question." 

"You didn't have to shove her..."

"Shut up." I could practically hear the grin plastered across his face. "Killers don't feel anything."

"If you don't apologize in this second and leave I will personally see to it that you are expelled." Curious eyes, including mine turned to the source of my savior. I was met with an annoyed looking Professor Choi. He held the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb fingers. The guy who had shoved tsked, rolling his eyes and muttering an apology before taking hold of his girlfriend and walking away. 

"Thank you," I mumbled as my eyes bore holes into my old sneakers." 

"Don't apologize. I don't stand for injustice." Professor Choi patted my shoulder with a small smile. "Go home and get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in ages." With a dismissive wave he walked away, the soles of his shoes echoing in the emptying hallways.

--

I was met with an empty apartment, ramen on the table with a note from my aunt stating that she would be home late and not to wait up. I chuckled because I knew she was probably looking for things to do so she didn't have to be alone with a 'murderer.' I decided to skip the mediocrity of it all and go straight to bed. 

My room was cold when I got to it. I looked over to the window and realized it was open, letting in a cold draft. I blinked a few times in thought, unable to remember if I had previously closed it or not. Guess it really didn't matter now. As my fingers brushed over the window pane I noticed something odd. A bright yellow butterfly sat idly on the pane. It was weird. I don't think I had ever seen a bright yellow butterfly. 

I went to go touch it, knowing it would probably fly off, but I was met by a nice surprise when instead it perched itself on my finger, its wings flapping slowly. A genuine smile hadn't crossed my lips in a while. The butterfly then flew about in front of my face before flying outside again. I decided to keep the window open, enjoying the coldness. 

I suddenly felt heavy; exhausted. I shuffled over to the bed and flopped down, not bothering to take off my clothes and before I knew it I was lost in dreamland. 

--

The buzzing of my alarm brought me out of sleep. I sighed tiredly, shutting it off before looking out the window with groggy eyes and that's when I saw it again, the same butterfly. 

Hmm. I don't know why, but suddenly a dream came to mind. I held my head for a bit. There was a guy in it...a smile, a laugh? It was a bit hazy. I can't remember anything but one thing. My eyes looked over at the butterfly again as a name escaped my lips,

"Jiyong." But why was that name in my dream?

Aww yeah! I'm back in action. This took ages to update. Forgive me. But with steady steps I hope to update and finish all of my stories.Until next time, kiddos.