It's only my first day at school this year, and already, someone's been assaulted. A girl was attacked by a wild dog outside the tennis courts. She hadn't even made it to her dorm yet. She was a junior- sixteen, the same age as me. 

My parents hadn't wanted me to go to boarding school, but it was my choice. Public high school just wasn't me. I stared out my dorm room window at the scene of police and faculty on the grass. I hear a harsh knock on the door and I turn to find a tall, slender girl in the doorway. 

"Are you Madison?" She says like I'm the least important thing on her mind. 

"Yeah, that's me." She drops her bags right inside the door and flops on the bed next to the bathroom. 

"One, stop smiling. Two, don't touch my stuff. Three, don't talk to me. Four, don't touch my stuff." She huffs, rubbing her forehead.

"You said that last one twice..." I correct.

"I know." she sits up and glares at me. My blood runs cold, and I feel like her stare could kill me. "So don't touch my stuff. And if I ever have my friends in here, leave. this is my room."

"Well technically, we're roommates. So its equally my room and your room." I counter politely.

"Your just lucky they wouldn't let me have a single room." She gets up and pulls the curtains closed in front of the window i was just looking out. "Never. Open. The. Curtains." I nod and she steps closer to me. "Ever." 

"So i take it you're not a morning person." 

                                                                ***

When I got back from class the next day, i found her making out with some guy and I don't think they even noticed I walked in. 

"Hey!" I shout, still not having learned her name. 

They look at me and the guy looks quite agrivated. "Deckland! Don't do it." She mutters softly. He shakes his head vigorously and grabs a tight hold of the best post. She looks at me first like she wants to kill me and then follows it with a look of sympathy. 

"Madison. Go. Now." I take her advice and run for the door, slamming it behind me and hearing the rusted click of the lock. 

"What the hell?" I hear the guy- Deckland- say from the room. "You let her get away."

"You know what I think of people. I value their lives more than you do." 

"Your pathetic. What would you mother think of you?" He hisses.

"I don't know, Deckland! She's dead!" My roommate shouts. "Unless you wanna go dig her up!" 

"Val, you killed your own mother. Why are you so against killing now?"

I gasp. She killed her own mother? Was it intentional? Did she commit cold murder? How long ago was this? The statement brings alot of horrifying questions to my head and one in particular naggs at my brain. What is "Val" short for? I wonder if I'll ever find out. 

"Just go home. I'll come by your place tomorrow night. Right now I just want to unpack and settle for the year." through the crack in the door i can see Val toss a brown leather jacket at Deckland and sit back on her bed. I hold my breath and run into the janitors closet and watch him trudge down the hallway and out the door to the common area and the elevators. 

"Do you still want me to leave?" I ask hesitantly, sticking my head in the doorframe. "I can go to the library and study there if you want." 

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry I went off at you earlier. I was dehydrated and I guess I was a little stressed out over the attack by the courts."

"So, Val. What's that a nickname for?" 

She takes a deep pregnant breath. "Valentina Gustavo." She huffs in a crisp clean accent. "My parents were a little 17th Century Europe."

"Sticklers for renaissance?" 

"You have no idea." She laughs a little. "look, I realize that I shouldn't have brought Deckland here. He can spell danger pretty quickly." 

"So what exactly was his problem with me?" I finally get the nerve to ask her. "Was it something I did?"

"No. It's a little bit more complicated than that. It's hard to explain." She says evading my point. 

"So, you're Italian?" I ask.

"Born and raised."

I raise an eyebrow. "You sound as American as a cheeseburger." I point out. 

"Once you've been here long enough, you sort of get used to the customs and cultures." 

"You know, I couldn't help but over hear about your mother." She looks down shamefully.

"It's not what you think."

"Did you kill her?"

"I had no choice." Says Val, cutting me off sharply.

"How?"

"All it took was a steak to the heart."