This Is How It Goes *UNDERGOING REVISION SOON*

(Book Trailer Included) Four teenage girls, Jane, Carmella, Mia, and Lily are experiencing some of the most difficult situations a teen could possibly have. Each of their lives shall intertwine with one another. This story exemplifies the often not so perfect lives of teenage girls by diving deep into the emotional struggles of adolescence.


Also, I do not own images, I only put the cover together myself and wrote the entire story. All image copyright goes to their rightful owners. Thank you (:

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39. Mia's Story Part 10:

   

   I pull open the door and it creaks boorishly, causing my jaw to tighten. This seriously needs to get fixed, before I just kick the damn door down myself. I let it slam shut behind me as I step inside, hearing it creak obnoxiously once again, sounding almost as if it was going to break down immediately itself.  

   The house is unexpectantly silent. Normally, the first thing to greet me would be my mother yelling, "God damn, Mia. Where the Hell have you been? And where's my whiskey, dammit?" It's a remarkable relief being able to just casually stride over to the kitchen counter and toss my car keys onto the grubby surface without a care in the world.

   When I do so, I happen to find a sticky note stuck to the counter. I lift it up and read the words scrawled out on the paper,  'Out at the club tonight. Be home late. Fetch me some whiskey for when I get home.' There's a blotch of some sort of brown liquid splotched on the corner. I move it closer to my nose, not surprised at the stench of alcohol. 

   I rip it in half and drop the pieces of yellow paper into the wastebasket. Why is my mom even at a club? She hasn't gone there for a long time. What's she gonna do? Gamble? With what, the money she doesn't have? 

   Whatever, it's not like I really give a crap. I don't care wherever the hell she is, as long as she's not home I'm delighted. I slip my long coat off, throwing it on the floor. I open the fridge, seeing nothing but a few zip-lock bags of rotten cheese, to go along with the rest of spoiled dairy products around it. I won't dare touch that milk, most definitely filled with nauseating chunks. 

   I look far back, fortunately able to spot a can of cola. I eagerly reach my arm across the shelf, pushing all the other junk out of the way and pull it out. The cold can feels satisfying against my skin and I walk into the living room while popping the tab open and taking a sip of cola. My eyes water from the icy tingle throughout my body, but it feels so good. I don't really understand why people can't just drink soda rather than alcohol. 

   I throw myself down onto the raggy, old couch and grab the remote off the floor. When I press the red power button on the remote, the news appears on the small, box shaped TV screen. I take another sip of my soda, heading to the guide. Do teens my age even watch the news? It's just a bunch of boring adults talking about all the tragedies of America and 100+ government issues. 

   As I scroll through the guide, I don't come across really anything that catches my eye. Right now, it's just all these lame nature shows on. Who the hell watches those either? Tree huggers? Man, I hate those people. 'Save the trees!' Pfft, fuck that. I don't see why you'd care so much about saving trees. It's not like they do anything for you, until you chop 'em down. It's the same thing with animals, can't grill it 'til you kill it.

   I sigh, wishing CSI or something interesting was on television right now. I think I missed like the last three episodes. I pause, my eyes wandering towards the small box in the corner of the screen with the news still on. 

   "Although police have not yet found the killer of the shooting at the Canton Guitar Center, they were able to catch a glimpse of the suspect with the playback of the shop's security tapes. The criminals had set off a stink bomb, making it difficult to see them clearly, but as you can see in the following photograph from the tape, the suspect has pink hair." 

   I sit up with full alert, exiting the guide and watching as they zoom in on the still shot of the security camera. There is a red circle around the somewhat blurry figure of a girl with pink hair-in which would be me. You can only see the back of me, though..it wouldn't matter if you could see the front of me, anyway because I was wearing a gas mask.

   The picture disappears and the reporter continues her statement, "Police will be investigating more into this incident, searching for more evidence on the suspect. But for now, this is the only evidence they have."

   "There's not many people around with pink hair, Judy." Says the man sitting at the round table beside her. "So that's something."

   I quickly turn the TV off, realizing I haven't been breathing. I gulp and stand up, pacing back and fourth. 

   Shit, I think to myself. I knew the stink bomb was taking a huge risk. We should've just broke in there ahead of time, or had smashed the security cameras or something. Dammit! This is not good. If police see me, I'm an automatic suspect. 

   I've gotta think of a plan..something to make me look innocent. 'Cause the cops are gonna find me eventually, and I'm not willing to go to prison. I'd probably kill myself before that ever happened.

   I mean I know that just being part of this damn gang puts me in a bad position, but we're all pretty clever, and we know how to not get caught. But this..this time I need to do something. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I robbed that guitar store. I guess I wasn't thinking. At least I didn't leave any other evidence behind other than what's on that security tape. God damn, though. How could I be so careless?

   "Fuck!" I growl, accidentally kicking over my can of soda with my foot. The cola pools out into a dark puddle, the carpet slowing absorbing it.

   I suddenly remember the blood pouring out of Shawn's head, spreading around him. His eyes, I remember them rolling into the back of his head. 

   "Ahg!" I shout, angrily. I boot the can across the room as hard as I can and it smashes against the wall. I look up, stunned to see Shawn standing right there.

   "Mia, geeeeez. Calm down. I know you're pissed about the whole thing on the news, but come on. It's you. I know you can find your way outta this one. It's simple." He tells me, strutting on over. He sets his self down on my couch, putting his feet up and crossing his legs. 

   "Shawn..." I whisper, blinking a couple times to ensure that I'm not seeing things. "It's you."

   "Why do you look so surprised? Of course I'm here." He looks up at me with a cocky grin.

   "I shot you...how..are you here right now?" I question, staring right back at him.

   "'Cause you love me." He shrugs, like it's something totally natural to say.

   "What-"

   Before I can finish my sentence he laughs, interrupting me. "I know you love me. Why else would your imagination be tricking you into thinking I'm here?"

   I stand there for a moment looking at the carpet, trying to process what he's just said to me. Is this...but it can't be..just my imagination...it has to be real...he's right th-

   I look up and he's gone. Shawn has vanished from sight.

   I turn around and look in every direction. "Shawn?" I ask aloud, praying he'll come back. Unfortunately, he doesn't return. I guess I'm not all that surprised. It's just like last time...it felt so real seeing him here with me..but it can't be anything other than my imagination. He's dead. I killed him.

   I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes and I hold my chin up, refusing to cry. I take a deep breathe and close my eyes for a few seconds before opening them once again.

   Shawn's right-well, I'm right. I can handle this situation. I just need to think up some kind of plan. But I can't do that in this tight, clustered house. I need to get out. 

   I head over to the closet and search through the hangers of dark attire. All of the coats look like something bought from a cheap thrift shop...'cause they all probably were. I search through the hangers, finding a deep grey hoodie with black drawstrings. 

   I slip the sweatshirt over my head and make sure the hood is covering all of my pink hair. When I find that it is, I head outside, letting the obnoxious, creaking door slam shut on my way out. 

   It's late, the night is dark and dreary as I make my way down the sidewalk. The only things illuminating my path are the lanky light posts every few yards. 

   I can hear a couple cars and extra ambiance in the town, and it's making me wary. I glance around for any officers or even any general gangsters hanging around at the dead of night. It's then that I realize I'm unarmed. Damn, I think to myself. Maybe I'm not cut out for any type of thought consuming process. Lately, I've been a little dense and heedless of things. I didn't even think about how my gun was in my bag that I left in the truck. There's no turning back now, I've already walked a few blocks. 

   Whatever, it's not like I need any more evidence for passing cops. All they need currently is to pull off my hood and spot my pink hair and I'm pretty much dead. Hah, if I had a gun in my pocket, too..I would be in the jail cell ASAP. 

   As I head further into the depths of the town, the night grows dusky. The shops and houses in this area are just about all abandoned, except for maybe a few old coots who hate everything..or a couple of drug dealers in the haunting alleyways. The light posts no longer continue to this part of town..since no one goes down here, really. 

   It's sketchy, no doubt, but I like it. I like the peace of mind it brings me, even though it's not necessarily the safest place to be. There's no cops, nobody gets caught doing anything around here. It's deserted and eerie-a place most normal people don't dare to go. One of those places I enjoy going, because I'm not normal. 

   I turn and look at the complete barren shops beside me, the windows smashed with cobwebs taking place of the missing glass. It's as if I'm in the upside down part of town.

   I come to a slower pace at the sound of cackling. It's echoing just nearby, in the upcoming alleyway, I think. I hear a boy pleading to be let go and then a twisted voice following, "This should be a lesson learned, not to come to these parts of the town. Silly little boys like you, they shouldn't be hanging around places like these."

   I stop and listen as the boy responds anxiously, "Okay! I-I promise I'll never come back here...please..I'm sorry..I'll learn my lesson...I'm sorry...please.."

   "Did you fail to hear my words correctly? I said 'this should be a lesson learned,' not that it will be. As unfortunate as it is for you, you're not gonna live another day to learn that lesson very well."

   I stand there, feeling as though I'm able to practically hear this boy's heart beating. Not only that, but I feel as though I know the other person's voice. I'm almost 99% sure I know who that is...and I've gotta stop her.

   I rush over and appear around the corner. Through the darkness I'm able to see Gwen, her arm wrapped around some boy's neck, his expression full of undivided fear. Her other hand is holding up a black pistol to his right temple. 

   They both look up at me, the boy in mere shock, but looking slightly more relieved to see a new face. I can tell he has hopes that I'll save him. Gwen just looks up at me gradually, that vulgar smirk of hers spread across her repulsive face.

   "Mia, is that you?" Gwen wonders, looking pleasantly surprised to have an audience. 

   "Gwen, what are you doing?" I ask sternly. Although, I'm assuming she's just toying with an innocent pedestrian who dared to walk these forbidden streets. 

   "I could ask you the same thing, now couldn't I?" She responds, cackling a bit.

   "Like it matters. Who's the boy?" 

   "He said his name is Ryan. Cute, isn't he? But worthless. He'd look even better dead. Remind you of anyone in particular?" She stares at me, without blinking once.

   I just wanna walk right over there and peel that goddamn grin off her motherfucking face. It's insulting my every breathe of oxygen. How dare she talk to me like that. 

   "Shut the hell up, Gwen. You have no right to talk to me like that." I fire back. 

   She snickers, "I'm actually quite surprised you haven't shot me, yet. Where's your gun, Mia? You must have it with you."

   It's almost as if she said that because she knows I'm not armed. It's as if she can tell I'm being cautious because I'm afraid she'll point that gun at me, next. 

   "Violence isn't gonna solve anything, Gwen. It's not gonna teach you anything.." I lie, trying to sound as though I just simply do not want to take my gun out. "Just let him go."

   "You're the one to talk." Gwen snaps, "You shot your lover boy right in the head, 'cause you're just a pissy brat." 

   I can feel the fire in my chest flickering with flames as my hands roll into fists. "You don't know anything." 

   "They're gonna get you, Mia. The cops. They're already on the lookout for you. What even possessed you to dye your hair that dumb pink color? It looked nice when it was dirty blonde." Gwen tells me, unable to control her excessive smirking habit.

   I was just dumb and stupid when I dyed my hair pink, last year or so. My cousin dyed her hair purple and she told me I'd look awesome with pink hair. So, I just went along and let her dye it. I guess I thought it did look pretty sweet. Although, now I'm having regrets. 

   "You don't need to worry about me." I responded, looking her straight in the eyes. "Just let the damn boy go, Gwen. What did he ever do to you?"

   "Like it matters." She says, mocking me. She starts laughing hysterically, the boy shaking in her arms.

   I recall her calling him a 'little boy', yet he looks our age. I'm not quite sure what he was doing among these dead streets, possibly going to deal drugs, but he clearly wasn't expecting something this chaotic. 

   "Ryan, it was nice encountering you tonight! Any regrets coming down here?!" 

   The boy stays still, and I see him gulping with fear, unable to speak.

   "Answer me, Ryan! Any regrets?! Any regrets?!" She presses the gun to his temple with more force.

   He chooses to respond, "No." and Gwen cracks up.

   "No?! Awwweh, Ryan! I'm so flattered!" She's laughing so insanely it's making me cringe. I want to stop her, but I don't know how to control this side of her. She's becoming psychotic as each second passes. "Well then I guess it would make sense to put an end to you, right now! Then the last thing you'd see would be my ravishing face, eh?!"

   I can see the boy's eyes watering and I step forward, not knowing why, only that I can't let her shoot him. But come on, what can I do?! This one motion could lead me to my deathbed. 

   But that boy, he just reminds me of Shawn...struggling to hang on...a gun to his head...I can't watch him die again. 

   "Gwen, you don't need to do this-"

   Just like that, Gwen tightens her arm around the boy's neck and points her pistol at me, still cackling. "Get back, Mia. I know you're unarmed. I'll kill you both!"

   I see the muzzle of her gun is wavering slightly; she's shaking like someone whom belongs in a psych ward. I notice her finger on the trigger, and I have no choice but to step back again. 

   She beams at me, turning her head to give Ryan a hard kiss on the cheek. Right after that, she doesn't hesitate to put the gun back on his temple and pull the trigger. Just as the gun goes off, Gwen yells, "BOOM!...There goes Shawn."

   There's blood everywhere, all over Gwen's face and clothes, all over the ground and some on the concrete walls. 

   I feel dizzy, watching as the boy slips from her arms and falls to the ground. I can clearly see the bullet hole in the side of his head and I feel like puking. I know I've seen this before, but I never ever wanted to see it again. All I'm able to do is replay the tragic scene over and over again, but it's Shawn...slipping from my murderous arms. 

   Gwen just laughs, but it's less psychotic than it was ten seconds ago, the fun having finally ended for her. She looks at the dead body once more before walking over to me with a steady pace. 

   "Watch out, Mia. It's gonna be you next." She says, putting the bloody muzzle against my chest and smirking as she stares creepily into my eyes. 

   I just let her walk away, without saying any smart aleck comeback in response. And when I see she's gone, no longer in sight, I just let the angry tears stream down my cheeks as I rush by the innocent boy's bloody corpse. 

   I get on my knees and just look at him and cry. Why does this have to happen..? Everything..everything in my life is just crime...and violence..I need it to go away...I need to stop this...I need to put an end to this...and I'm starting with Gwen.

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