Nirvana is blasting from the speakers, and the town sits just outside her open windows. She sits and sings along with B, sitting Indian style on her couch. They watch the rain poor down; their voice’s hiding in the volume. Music is safe and Nirvana is their favorite.

She can recall when she’d wake up early with her sister for cartoons. She remembers when her older brother would visit. She remembers the blue dress she wore the day her kid brother was born, back in ‘98.

Five days before Christmas, she sits impatiently in the deputy’s office. Her face is damp and smudgy. She’s quivering and trembling as she hears the words. She’s going to jail. Her father’s been away for over three months and he comes home today. She wonders if he’ll recognize her. Selfishly, she wonders if she’ll have a Christmas.

Days turn into months, and she attempts to not get caught in harm’s way. Months turn into years, she’s now 15. Older, yet still childish. Smarter, yet still foolish.

My mother thinks I’m addicted to trouble.

Among other things.

You may like to know about B.

I've known B for about three months now. Well, theoretically, I’ve known him for almost a year or two. I recently started to get to know him well, who he truly is, and how he gets through each day. Already, he’s drained the life from me.

Basically, this is how it is, how it’s always been, how it’ll always be.

I was born in Naples, Florida. Nearly sixteen years later and I’m still planted into the ground of this town, ready to take on a new town. I was five when my brother was born. My sister was six and my brother was about thirteen. I’ve always wanted to be a good example, someone who was accommodating and open. I wanted to be an inspiration and help him when helps in need. I was unsuccessful. Whether he knows it yet or not, I took his innocent childhood away. I’ve brought fear and panic to my family. I’ve brought confusion and disorder to my family.

I will not support peace until there is peace, until I feel and experience peace. I support war, and those fighting for you and me. After high school, I can see myself somewhere that’s full of exhilaration, anticipation and adrenalin. My mother sees me in college, aiming for a successful career, life and family. Sure, I’d never mind having a successful career and life, yet I don’t want to settle down.
Driving through the pouring rain, its pitch black, we took a back road. M’s driving and I’m in the passenger seat. I had this stationary feeling inside me, tightening, creeping up into my esophagus, making me to want to cry. A bit too early, we reached our destination. I was at a show in the middle of nowhere, yet it was crowded. I had my sisters’ shoulder bag that I treasured. It retained my guidance, my portal, my gateway and some other stuff.

I wandered around for a bit. The dirty, sticky booths made me feel sick. I kept on going until I reached where the bands would be. Outside, thank goodness! I went and got water, then sat back down looking up at the stars; trying to pass time. I remember feeling so diminutive in such a big world; I closed my eyes and felt completely worn out.

I’m not sure how long I sat against that brick wall, but, when I was conscious again, there was this boy, looking down at me, standing over me.

I sat upright.

His name was B.