Woah. Where the h*ll did that come from? Love? I don't even know this guy, and I think I "love" him? Could this day get any wierder?

I shuffle to my locker, bobbing my head as Hollwood Undead talks about Charlie Scene's weenie being shown off. I turn the dial, 6 to the right, 13 left, 21 right. Narnia opens with a click. ok, not quite as big as Narnia, but who doesn't want a secret world they could escape to? besides, I have enough notebooks stacked in there that I wouldn't be able to fit the lion, or any of the trees in the small metal box that contains everything important to me, my journals. Not really diaries, my journals contain so much more than the boy I like at the moment.

More than just my mind, they are what keep me sane. They contain my poems and songs, stories and sketches from the day mom died until now. I carry them to school at the beginning of each year, and they remain in my locker until summer break. I'm so afraid if He finds them, he will destroy them. I would lose it if he did. I already feel like parts of me are slipping away into oblivion.

I pull out my current journal, only about half full, and slam the locker's door shut. I nearly jump out of my skin. Andrew is right there.

"If you are going to stalk me, I'm going to ask that you bestow your affections on someone else. I don't have the time, nor do I have the patience to put up with it."

He smiles, "As tempting as it may be to follow you around, my locker is right beneath yours, and I 'd like to get down there."

There's that laugh again, the slow melody of the wind clashing against the brass and copper pipes on my porch. I get a chill throughout my spine as he brushes against me when he passes me. Suddenly, everything is blank, and I'm shoved back into my memories. Well, it's me, but not my memory. I'm looking down at my unconscious form, laying in the stark white hospital bed. scars and stitches coat my arms and throat, and I remember this place. My suicide attempt at 14. Somehow I had a miraculous recovery. We still don't knowhow it happened. Whoever's eyes I'm staring, no, gazing out of really care about me. They raise their hand to my forhead, and I see my a bright, pure white light, making the walls look quite dingy. My, our, eyes finally adjust. That's when I see it. Or rather, I don't. My scars are gone. All of them. Whoever this person is, they healed me. Somehow. Someway.

I'm back in the hallway. Andrew's eyes are full of fear as he looks at me. He turns, and runs. Just takes off and is gone in an instant. That's when I realize who saved me.

"What are you," I whisper to his rapidly fading back, "and why did you help me?"