Happiness comes at the randomest of times. After all that I've been through in the past month, I didn't know that my face could still form a smile, to be completely honest.

I'm sitting in bed with Amy, who is telling me the hilarious story of how she once sleep walked down the street naked; which probably wasn't so funny to her at the time. She has to stop every few words to regain her composure from laughing too much.

Her face is now completely unfrozen, as well as her right arm and leg.

After the other night when Amy first came back home, I sat down and explained the whole Elizabeth situation to her. Despite thinking that her reaction would be angry, she just assured me that everything would be alright.

The next day I went to the hardware store and bought a new security system. I had to ask one of the neighbours a couple of houses down for some help installing it. I know that both Amy and I feel safer now that we have full control of who is in the house.

When my stomach hurts too much from laughing, and Amy is all tuckered out, I say goodnight and head to my bedroom.

For once in the longest time, I'm going to bed with a smile on my face.

I hope happiness finds me again soon.

In the morning I wake up feeling just as bright as the sun's rays that are shining through my window.

With a determined grin, I pull on a pair of jeans and a lavender coloured shirt. I dance down the hallway to Amy's room, and peek in.

She's still sound asleep, which was what I was hoping for.

I skip downstairs and into the kitchen, where I grab a few ingredients to make Amy some breakfast. I must say that although I've never done much cooking in my life, the plate of pancakes that I've made look quite devine!

I grab a tray from a drawer under the counter, and pour a glass of juice.

With wobbly arms, I carry the tray of food up to her room.

"Amy!" I exclaim.

Her eyes open and she smiles.

"Awh Emerald, you know you didn't have to get up so early to make breakfast!"

"I know, but I wanted to start the day off on the right foot!" I reply, setting the tray down on her lap, "I didn't know how much syrup you like on your pancakes, so I just brought the container up!"

I pour some syrup onto the mountain of pancakes. She thanks me again, and I go downstairs to my plate of breakfast.

As I eat, I remember the state of the living room wall, and how shocked Amy seemed when I told her that it had spray paint on it. I decide that I'm going to go back to the store to get some paint to cover it up.

"I'll be right back!" I yell out as I pull on my boots.

There's a fluffy blanket of snow on the ground, and as much as I want to go and play in it, I remember that I'm not a kid anymore. Most kids don't know trauma like I do.

"Emerald!" Mrs. Leblanc calls out from her yard.

"Don't you think it's a bit early to be decorating for Christmas?" I yell back in regards to the ten foot nativity scene that she's setting up.

"It's never too early to celebrate the Lord!" she replies, hammering down one of the wise men.

"Good luck!"

I start to walk away, but before I get too far, Jane stops hammering.

"Emerald, can you tell me what happened last Friday night?" She asks, but I don't really feel like explaining the whole process of how I snuck out of her window.

"Another time!" I reassure her, then I continue on my way to the store.

Unlike the last time I bought paint, I don't have much of a choice for the colour, unless I want to repaint the entire room (which I don't).

Amy's living room is the colour of the sky, but clouds are blocking my reference, so I grab the paint that I think is the best match, and head over to the checkout. After paying, I go to leave the store when I see a familiar face outside.

Elizabeth.

I try to keep myself together as I push open the door, but my heart is pounding like crazy.

It's just Liz, she can't do anything too crazy, especially since we're in public. As much as I'd rather just ignore her, I feel like it'd be best to try and clear the air between us (for like the fifth time this month).

"Elizabeth?" I say, and she turns to face me.

"I thought you said you don't want to talk!" she blurts out.

"You know that I just said that because I was mad at you for betraying me, right?"

"There was no other way," she says, "You are too stubborn sometimes, and I want you to be safe."

"I know that now."

"Back at Mrs. McKutch's are you?" she asks, nodding to the paint can that I'm holding.

"Yeah, she was in the hospital, but now she's back," I explain, "I still never got around to painting over the graffiti!"

"Do you think I could help?" she pleads, "I just feel kinda guilty."

"Sure. Just promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"This time, maybe don't call the cops on me?"

"Deal."

We walk the remaining kilometre or so back to Amy's house, and we situate ourselves in the living room.

"Step one," Liz reads off of a tutorial on her phone, "Cover all furniture in the room."

"Done." I pull the remaining tarp over the couch.

"Now, we just paint!"

I take the roller in my hand and dip it into the paint, hoping that it's going to match the colour of the walls. Thankfully it does, and I let out a sigh of relief.

I feel like Picasso with every stroke, though I know that this is nothing compared to what he painted.

We chat for the next hour or so as we paint, and when we finish I take a step back and admire our work.

"Wow," I admit, "It looks just as good as before!"

She nods, and then turns to me.

"Emerald," she says tenderly, "I like hanging out with you."

"Me too." I smile.

"That gives me an idea," she exclaims, pulling her phone out of her pocket, "There's this party tonight at Hilary's, and I thought that maybe you'd like to go with me?"

"Uh," I mumble, scratching my arm, "You know I'm not really a party-goer!"

"Emerald."

"What?" I laugh. "I'd only make the night worse."

"Come on! I know that things lately have been tense between us, and I just want to let go and have some fun! You down?"

It might be fun.

"Alright," I give in.

I must've gone through my entire closet at least four times, looking for the perfect outfit to wear to the party.

I've never been to a high school party before and I don't know what to expect, or what to wear.

I finally decide to stay casual and just rock a white t-shirt with one of the few necklaces I own. Liz is picking me up in five minutes, and I go into Amy's room to tell her where I'll be.

"You look nice!" She observes.

"Thanks! I'm going to a party with Liz," I explain, trying to hide my nervousness.

"A party?" One of her eyebrows raises.

"Yeah I've never been to one, and I promise I won't drink or do anything crazy! I'm just going to go and obse—"

"Hold your horses, darling! I didn't say you weren't allowed!"

"Oh, thank god!"

"Just be safe, okay?"

"I will, thanks!" I hear a knock on the front door. "That's, her!"

"What time will you be back by?"

"I don't know! I'll try to be home as early as I can! Love you!"

A funny grin appears on my face as I realize that it's the first time that I've said those words to Amy.

I do love her. She's the only person that I have!

"Okay! Lock the doors on your way out, would you?" She yells out after me as I run down the stairs.

"Hey!" I greet Liz, who looks way better than I do, in a red bomber jacket and matching platform boots.

"Heyo! I asked Emilie to get us so that you didn't have to deal with my dad right now!"

"You're a saint!"

The sky swarms with dark clouds, signalling a snowstorm on the horizon.

If only I knew just how bad the storm approaching would be.

I get into the truck and we drive to the party, which is on the other side of town.

"Do you guys think my outfit is okay?" I ask self-consciously.

"Yeah it's fine, although I think you're missing something!" Emilie takes off the gold jacket she's wearing and hands it to me.

"Are you sure?"

"It looks better on you anyways!" Emilie assures me.

When we arrive at the party, we park a few blocks away, so that when we want to leave we can get out without hitting any winos.

I can hear the music blaring as we walk closer and closer to the party. I feel like running away and peeing my pants at the same time, but I go with the flow, knowing that it can't be as horrible as I picture it in my mind.

The front doors open up to something worse than I'd expected. An endless crowd of bodies are in every inch of the house, throwing themselves on top of each other.

Doesn't anyone have any sense?

We huddle past a few people that I know, and into the kitchen where bottles of alcohol litter the counters.

"What do ya want?" Hilary exclaims, gesturing with both arms to the array of drinks.

I shake my head at her, but she won't take no for an answer.

"Trust me," Hilary mutters in a slurred voice, "You'll want this later."

She hands me a plastic cup filled with some kind of spirit, and I thank her.

When everyone gets their choice of booze, we head back to the mosh pit in the living room.

In a matter of minutes I've somehow lost all of my friends in the crowd of bodies.

I look down at the crystal clear liquid in my cup and take a sip, hesitantly.

My throat burns as it goes down, reminding me that what I'm doing probably isn't the best idea. With mixed emotions, I chuck the cup into the garbage. I know that if I go down this path I'll only end up like my father.

"Emerald!" A manly voice shouts over the loud music. I turn around to face Tyson Adderall, one of the sophomores from my old school.

"Hi!" I reply.

Tyson and I have never really spoken before, other than the casual 'hello' from time to time, so I'm guessing the glass bottle in his hand gave him some extra courage.

"Long time no see man!"

His speech is as slow as a sloth and I can't quite make out what he's saying, so I pull him off to the side where it's quieter.

"Aha yeah, things these past few weeks have been crazy for me!"

"Woww."

I nod, and giggle at his drunken demeanor.

"How come you ain't sippin' on anything?" He simpers, staggering over to the kitchen.

He runs his hands over the many bottles of alcohol as if he is making the most important decision of his life, before picking up a bottle of peach schnapps.

"Try this."

Not wanting to embarrass myself, I pick up a bottle opener on the counter and attempt to pop the lid off. It's not as easy as they make it seem in beer commercials though, so Tyson ends up helping me.

This is good.

Unlike whatever I had before, this doesn't burn my throat at all. I take a few more swigs. So what if I get drunk? My father isn't here to scold me, and even if he was, he'd probably be the one encouraging me!

I tip the bottle higher and begin to chug it. When I finish, Tyson hands me another bottle.

Three bottles later, I can barely walk. Tyson tries to guide me over to a couch, but ends up tripping over himself and falling onto a bunch of girls, spilling their drinks.

"I'll catch you later." I garble, staggering off into the crowd.

I spot Liz dancing with Lily, and make my way over.

"Whoa! Someone's hammered!" Liz says, laughing.

"Why didn't you tell me she was such a party animal?" Lily exclaims observantly.

"I didn't even know I could—"

My stomach interrupts me by shooting a stream of vomit up from my stomach, and onto Lily's white dress.

Oops.

Lily's face reflects that of an angry bear, but with an appalled glare.

"I think we should go," Liz interjects, pulling me away from the party.

There isn't any snow in the air, but the ominous clouds are still lurking above. Liz grabs me by my side, and helps me to Emilie's car.

"Are you sure you want to go home to Amy?" Liz asks me on our way back.

"Yeah she's still in bed where I left her and I can probably just sneak by her room without her even noticing!" I blather, feeling another round of puke on its way up my throat.

"No, you're not okay,"

"Your house?" Emilie says, and Liz nods.

When we arrive at Liz's, she plops me down onto her bed, and turns me onto my side to prevent me from choking on my throw up during the night.

"You're smart," I mumble, but she shushes me.

"You need rest."

When the morning comes around, I feel better than last night, but something is still churning inside of my stomach.

I thank Liz and decide to do the walk of shame back to Amy's, to help sober up.

Instead of the fresh air I expected, my nose is filled with the scent of smoke, and I pull my shirt up over my nose to filter out the off-putting smell.

The next few steps is where everything goes from worse to worser.

I round the corner and see the unfortunately familiar scene of flashing lights, once again at the top of the street. This time is different though. Something is missing:

Amy's house.

My legs turn to jello and I collapse onto the freshly fallen snow. My lip quivers as I observe the site. I lift myself into a standing position, and with even wobblier feet start walking up the sidewalk.

When I reach the top of the street I lose all hope. The numbness deep inside my core takes over, and I stand there with the other neighbours, silently observing.

What was once Amy's home is now a pile of ash and rubble.

Why aren't they talking?

It dawns on me all of a sudden, that the reason no one is gossiping is because they're mourning.

Harold was right:

I killed Amy.