It had all ended with a jolt. Throwing the covers off of my body, I looked around and tried to shake off the replaying nightmare within my head. Needing something to bring me back to reality, I took in the scenery around me. Blank off-white walls? Check. Week-old clothes strewn across the floor? Check. Stomach that had definitely not been slashed open by some creepy sleep paralysis demon? Check. Thank fuck.

I raised my hand to run my fingers through my hair only to feel all the excess sweat from my palms absorb into my scalp. Great. Now there was an entirely different problem to deal with today.

Somehow managing to pull my sorry excuse for a soul out of bed, I trekked over to my closet and pulled a few clothes from the dresser, its contents all haphazardly thrown in there from whenever laundry had been done last. Quickly laying them over my arm, not even bothering to see what eldritch abomination of an outfit I had managed to coordinate, I quickly escaped my room and made my way to the bathroom to try and make myself look at least somewhat presentable for the coming day.

Shedding off my pajamas and walking into the shower, I let the warmth of the water flow over my skin, lulling me into a more relaxed state, the events of the previous nightmare eventually fading from my mind.

If the shower hadn't already woken me up, the cold air from stepping out of it definitely would have done the job just fine. I snatched the nearest towel and quickly dried my hair. Beginning to dress into today's outdated fashion statement, which just so happened to be houndstooth drawstring pants and an oversized red t-shirt advertising some seafood restaurant, I applaud myself for looking like less of a freak than usual.

Pulling my phone off of its charger above the towel rack, I slipped it into my pocket and made my way to the kitchen for breakfast.

I shuffled around to the counter, reaching for a bowl and digging around in the cupboards for cereal that wasn't past its expiration date. I was about to follow up with grabbing the milk when a certain voice nearly scared the daylights out of me.

"Hey, whatcha doin', kiddo?"

I jumped and whipped my head around to see Tracy staring expectantly from across the counter.

I blinked a couple of times before continuing to open the refrigerator, hesitantly pulling out the milk carton. "Uh...grabbing food?" I managed.

Her eyebrows raised in an unimpressed fashion. "Oh really?"

I remained silent for a few moments before managing to speak again. "Am I not allowed to have food now?"

"That's not what I'm referring to." She sighed and straightened herself up. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

My anxiety spiked. Was she mad at me? It was so hard to tell when she got like this. I checked the clock above the stove. "Eight forty-five." I noted.

Her stare seemed to bore itself into my soul as her lips tightened. "And you know where you have to be today?"

"Nowhere?" I tried, starting to pour my milk into my bowl.

"Oh, really?" She cocked her head and crossed her arms. "Do you know what day it is today?"

I shrugged, about to put the cap back on the milk carton. "Yesterday was Friday, right? So it's Saturday today, right?"

She groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh, my god, what am I going to do with you, kid?" She allowed her hand to fall to the table, her acrylic nails hitting the stone top counter with a distinctive click. "Scarlett, it's Monday."

The carton seemed to slip out of my hands and hit the floor with an audible splat as milk exploded all over the tile flooring. All the blood in my body rushed to my face. "It's Monday?"

"Yes." She replied in a tone that would have been interpreted as condescending if used by anyone else. She stood up and threw my keys at me, which I only barely managed to catch. "And you know what that means, right?"

"I'm late for class." I exclaimed, managing to jump over the freshly created giant milk puddle and slip on some shoes before rushing over to the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Tracy called.

"Love you, bye! Have a good day at work!" I shouted back, rushing over to my car as fast as I could. I groaned as I ran outside and started up my beat up Dodge Intrepid.

My first day of school and I'm already an hour late to class. This was sure to go well.

*                              *                              *

After running what seemed like every red light in town, I somehow managed to make it to the damned place in less than fifteen minutes, which all things considered, wasn't actually that bad. I grabbed the nearest parking space and rushed into the doors, pulling up my schedule on my phone to refresh my brain.

Second Period, 8:20 to 9:30, Room 1304.

I gazed around at the halls. To my left was 1402 and to my right was 1509. I followed down to the left hoping that the rooms were linear, which to my dismay, they weren't. Add another ten minutes of trying to figure out how the hell these hallways worked before I finally found my room at the ass end of the west wing.

This was the first of my many, many gripes with this damned place.

Upon arrival, I pulled down on the door handle and prepared to walk into class, which would have been a great plan, except for the fact that the door was locked. I tried looking into the class, to which I noticed the teacher in the middle of a lesson. Not wanting to be ignored, I tried rapping my knuckles on the door. Still nothing. Now was the time to increase intensity until the desired result was achieved.

And said results were definitely achieved.

The teacher made his way over and opened the door for me. I was about to step into the classroom, but was promptly stopped.

Looking up at the man, who was staring down at me behind a thick pair of glasses, the first thing I noticed about him was his lips, downturned in so much of a frown that his moustache followed along as well.

"What do you think you're doing here?" He demanded in a gruff, annoyed voice.

Pulling up my phone, I began to reply with, "Well, you see, my schedule says I'm supposed to be here for second period--"

"Yes, you definitely should have been here for second period. Do you have a pass?"

I was taken aback. "Pass?"

A few of the students from behind the door erupted into what seemed like a collective snicker. The teacher glared back at them as if to silence the class, then turned back to me and gave an exasperated sigh. "Considering I don't recognize you, I guess you're new here. What's your name?"

"Scarlett Kingston." I quickly answered, glancing around the room to find any way to avoid this old fart's gaze.

A couple soft gasps sounded throughout the room. A few even began to poke their heads over one another in an attempt to get a better look at what was happening.

The old fart's gaze hardened. "Oh, you." He snarled. "Well, Ms. Scarlett, just so you know, if you're late to class, we can't let you in without a note from the attendance office."

"That's dumb." I retorted without missing a beat.

He raised a bushy eyebrow at me, his expression hardening as if he couldn't believe that some new kid had just questioned his authority. "Excuse me?"

"I said it's dumb." I repeated, not really wanting to take anymore of this guy's bull.

He sharply inhaled through clenched teeth, looking like he was at his wit's end. "Dumb or not is a matter of opinion, now if you could please just make your way to the attendance office, it would be much appreciated." He smirked before he continued. "I really wouldn't want to call the fire department today if I can help it."

I blinked a few times in disbelief, taken aback by his oddly specific statement. A small panic began to build up in my chest. Was he referring to that incident? No. There was no way he could know about it. There was no way anybody at this school would know about it. They couldn't possibly.

"Huh?" Was all I could manage afterwards. The stares from the kids all unnerved me. Those knowing, judging eyes continue to set me on edge.

The old fart collected himself before dismissing me, carrying himself as if he had just won an important battle. "You'll find it right next to the southside entrance. It would be impossible to miss it."

Swallowing back the lump that was forming in my throat, I wordlessly nodded and stepped away from that godforsaken place. It wasn't until my journey had led me around halfway to the office before I actually started working myself up over the whole incident. Were all the teachers like that at this place? Was it even worth coming here if being accepted in the first place meant I had to deal with such rude faculty? I began to subconsciously scratch at my wrist, as if to calm me down somehow.

After a while, me and my lack of direction did manage to find the attendance office, which to my luck, wasn't locked. Unfortunately, the lady at the desk was in the middle of helping a long line of what appeared to be senior-age students. I took a deep sigh and joined at the back of the line. Not only did I have to deal with some old guy treating me like I was utterly incompetent, but now I had to wait in a long ass line to get a pass that I shouldn't even need to attend class.

I was about to pull out my earbuds to listen to some music before feeling a tap on my shoulder. I turned my head to what appeared to be a boy my age, who gave a shy little wave.

"I really like your hair. How'd you get it that bright red?"He asked me, speaking with a foreign accent, which I assumed was French.

I gave him a quick look over. He legitimately looked like he was an Instagram model or something, wearing nothing but what appeared to be high end clothing. His hair was a bright platinum blonde and his teeth were even brighter. I was almost taken aback. Were all foreign exchange students this conventionally attractive?

Trying not to make myself sound like a complete idiot, I replied with, "I didn't dye it. This is my natural color."

He gave a quick laugh. "That's a good joke. But seriously,"

"It's not a joke."

He was taken aback, staring at me like I was crazy with a look comparable to a deer stuck in the headlights. He shook it off and smiled, opening his mouth like he was going to say something. However, before I could give a reply, he was suddenly dragged away by a very bitchy looking blonde girl.

"You shouldn't be talking to her, Lucien, she's a bad influence. That chick that set Southside High on fire a couple of months ago."

I pulled back after hearing that. Then, almost as if on cue, nearly all the heads within the line turned to look at me. I felt their stares scouring over nearly every part of me. How...How did two people know about that now? Well, more than two, but I wasn't nearly in the right headspace to do that kind of math.

My heart began pounding out of my chest as I realized what kind of trouble I was in. That information wasn't supposed to be known to anybody other than Tracy and me. Even when that story was aired on the news, I was left completely out of it. How did the students, let alone the faculty know about it?

My palms began flooding with sweat for the second time today. I cast my head down to the floor and tried to avoid eye contact with everybody.

Hot.

Hot.

The stares of everyone focused on me were hot. They burned just like fire on my skin.

I began to unconsciously scratch at my wrists. I wished everyone would just go away. I wished they would stop. Why couldn't people just leave me alone?

Why couldn't they just mind their own business?

A loud burst sounded through the air, and then more than a handful of screams followed. I looked up towards the source of the loud noise.

Oh no.

Not again.

My throat ran dry as I took in the scene around me. Somehow the far wall had exploded into an open flame, devouring the plaster walls in a hungry manner. Merely seconds later, the fire alarm sounded and the student body rushed out of that room as fast as they possibly could. I soon followed after them.

From outside of the building, I watched as the rest of the school came flooding out the doors. Thick, black smoke was pouring out of the windows. It waved towards the outside world, as if begging them to take notice of what happened, and take notice they did. People all around were pulling out their phones, either to post the blaze to their snapchat stories or to call someone they knew.

The only thing hotter than that building was my face. If I had to guess, I would say I looked comparable to a tomato at that moment. There was only one thought in my head as I looked upon the blazing inferno.

This was supposed to be a new start for me, and here I had fucked up once again.