"Everything's a risk. Not doing anything is a risk.

It's up to you"

The clock striked thirteen. 

That was the thing: it always striked thirteen. Not twelve. It would have been better had the clock striked twelve. Cinderella had expected it, and so did Dara. But when the clock striked twelve and the magic lasted, it filled Dara with false hope. And she would always hope. Damn it if her hope was crushed because she hoped. Every single time she would hope that the magic lasted. And then it striked thirteen. The world zoomed back into focus. 

Dara was back to where she would always be: the school's hallway. Hundreds of thousands of human beings crowded the place, and the noise was so deafening she doubted people actually listened to what their friends were saying. That's the thing about humans: we didn't listen. We talked and we laughed and we conversed but we didn't hear a word. We didn't hear how that popular cheerleader's bright laugh was silently begging someone to ask her why her smile was strained. We didn't notice how that boy shagging his pants and acting "ghetto" was asking someone to please notice the stench of alcohol and blood on his skin. We didn't listen. 

So the day went on. Classes passed by. Everything was uneventful. Until that one popular cheerleader was suddenly found dead on her bed, a bottl