She was this little ball of fury and excitement, too much I almost couldn't handle. Her name, I learned after it was called by her teacher for several reasons, was Quinn Mayfield. She had a knack for being annoying. But in a good way. She constantly asked questions, which would get on people's nerves but I knew that some didn’t mind. I loved seeing the reactions of the ones who never got asked much, their faces would light up to even hear their name. To hear mine once more would be… unexplainable. The last time it was called, and it hurts just to recall, was when I was brutally murdered in a bathroom stall. After the third year went by and my name was no longer heard or whispered, I was officially gone. Atticus Fletcher.