I couldn't. I just couldnt do it. I couldn't open it until I was ready, and I wasn't ready for the truth.

So, I didn't open the box. I took it home and put it under my bed. I soon fell asleep with my imagination pouring thoughts about what could be in the box.

On May 21st was when my life changed. I packed up all of my stuff and put it in my car. I said goodbye to Veronica and that was it. I didn't say goodbye to Kate and Ashley or any other family or friends. I'm not good at goodbyes.

I started driving and all I could think about was that I was free. I was free from all the drama. I was free from everything. I was leaving that hell hole and starting fresh.

The drive was nice and calm. I didn't have to worry about phone calls or anything. Nobody called me, and I was glad. I didn't have to stress about anything.

I got to WKU and headed straight to my apartment. I didn't want a dorm. I couldn't handle the parties or loudness. I couldn't handle the drama. So, I hoped for the best by living in an apartment.

I soon got in my apartment. It had much space. On the left was the living room and work room. On the right was the kitchen and a little farther right was my bedroom. Straight ahead was another bedroom.

I started unpacking. While I was in my closet, I heard a loud noise. A loud noise that seemed to be vibrating through my whole apartment. It seemed to get louder and louder. It was music.

It was a party. I knew it was a party. It was 10 p.m. and by hearing the music, I was positive it was a party.

I decided it needed to turn down. I had a horrible headache and didnt need anymore stress put on me. I slowly walked out my door and followed the loudness.

It led me down a couple doors down from mine. The music increased as I took each step. I debated whether I should knock or not. I did.

I wasn't expecting this though. The door slowly opened and out came a cloud of smoke. Through that cloud of smoke stood a figure. A tall figure.

As the smoke cleared, I finally got a good look. I sure wasn't expecting this.

Standing in front of was a lean, tall boy. A boy with piercing green eyes, who looked my age. A boy with brown curly hair atop his head and many, many tatoos.

On his face was planted a smile. A smile that made me feel something. A nice, warming smile that made me feel alive again. A nice, warming smile that would soon turn into heartache and danger.