How You Changed.

What happens when best friends turn to mortal enemies?
Lucy-Rose is 14. She lives in her small council house on Ivory Road with her three little brothers and misunderstanding parents, amid her piles of schoolwork and GCSE revision.
She is, as every story seems to suggest, an average English teenager.
Or, she was.

Lucy gets discovered by a modelling agency, but on the same day she is involved in a terrible accident that turns her whole life upside down. Soon, a street gang is searching for her and monitoring her every move.
Nobody seems to know why or who leads the gang, but all of a sudden the walls seem to be closing in, as everyone turns against her.

There is nowhere to run when your own friends want you dead...


7. "I'm here to help you..."

I sat, hunched over, my cheeks clutched by my palms, eyes vacant, not listening. I was staring through a misted window, the outside a deep grey filled with drizzle and mist - not that the weather made any difference to my mood anyway, and to be honest I was looking but not seeing what was really there. My conversation with Ed flickered through my mind. 

I bit my cheeks until they bled to stop the mental pain from making me cry. My clammy palms swept clumsily over my wrists. I stared down into my lap, my gaze clouded and confused. Everything felt wrong.


The sound of my name resonating around the classroom snapped my eyes up. I felt everyone turn to look at me. 

I could feel the hate as if it were wind blowing through my hair. 

"I'm sorry, Sir?" I murmured. My English teacher was staring straight at me, holding my exercise book in one hand and a squeaky whiteboard pen in another. My thoughts clashed into each other as I tried to make sense of why he'd said my name, but for some reason I couldn't gather myself together. It was like my vision was at a strange angle. The lemon yellow walls of the classroom seemed to jump out at me and make me dizzy. 

"I thought that your creative writing piece was really impressive, so I'd like to read it out to the class." Mr Brook cleared his throat as if to begin, before I interrupted. 

"Oh, no, really..." I squeaked, "Please don't..." 

A few sniggers and whispers reached my ears. I couldn't see myself, but I knew that my cheeks were flushed crimson. 

"Why ever not?" He frowned, shooting daggers at some of the girls who were laughing. I only blushed harder. 

"I... I... don't feel comfortable with you reading it out, Sir." 

I tried to hide behind myself, cover my face with my hair, make no eye contact with anyone. I wanted the ground to swallow me up - I'd always told myself, no attention is the best attention, and right now all the attention was on me. I knew that the Irish boy with the deep brown eyes had walked into the same classroom as me; I wondered what he thought of me now.

"Don't be silly," Mr Brook insisted, "It's good to share with the class." 

I knew that at that moment, there was no changing his mind, and so I gave up. Looked down into my lap. Tried to think of something else, pretend I was somewhere else, anywhere else. But the words resonating off the page were so real to me that I couldn't block them out. 

We'd had to write about someone we'd lost.

"Sometimes I wonder - if we hadn't lost our loved ones, how different would our lives be? If change didn't exist and we could all just go back to not caring about how we look, how we talk, how we walk, who we're friends with.

I lost a friend.

The streetlights flicker above my head, and all I can see is her mouth moving, screeching at me, but no words come out. She stumbles over the pavement, pointing fingers at me, and all I want to do is scream back but there's nothing I can seem to say. My heart pounds. Dark tracks are painted down my wet cheeks, my lips numb. She keeps moving backwards, as far away from me as she can, slipping on the shining road, and time seems to stop as I hear the-"

I stood up. 

Normally I don't like to make a fuss. Show myself up. But I couldn't hear any more. It was all too real. I pushed the chair back with such force that I subsequently heard it crash onto the floor, and ran across the threshold to the exit, covering my face so that no-one would see my tears. They'd all know what it was about anyway. 

I could hear Mr Brook shouting for me to come back, but I was long gone. I pulled myself through corridor after corridor which all looked the same, trying to stifle my sobs. 

I lost a friend. 

The flashbacks flickered through my mind and my vision shifted sharply. I began to feel increasingly dizzy and the red-brick walls around me almost seemed to move, wobble. I felt sick. 


I heard his voice, echoing around my head, but it didn't seem to register. Everything I could see began to split into two. I sunk down against the wall, slipping onto my knees, my head between my legs and my eyes squeezing shut. 

"I'm here to help you...just tell me what's wrong..." 

I could feel his hand clutching my arm, rubbing me comfortingly. I dared look up, for a second. 

The Irish boy with the deep brown eyes stared back at me. 

There are many things I should've said, could've said, at that moment, that would have made everything a whole lot easier. But instead, I chose to push him away too. 

"I don't need anyone's help! I'm fine!" I choked, before nudging him off me and burying my head in my hands. 

I don't know what he said after that. I was too lost in my own sorrow to hear him walk away.



Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...