* * *

  I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, going over what happened today. Patrick and I were a wonderful pair of guilt-ridden teenagers. I’m sure his hovering was because he felt it was his fault that I was on the receiving end of Becca’s hate. I felt so guilty that he was being tardy for class, for practice, all in the name of keeping me safe from Becca. Becca, an enemy, I had a name and face for. She was someone who was turning my life and my friends’ lives upside-down. What was worse: someone who did damage to your life and had rippling, long-lasting effects? Or someone who did damage not only to you, but directly affected those around you? Attack against the one or the many? Knowing the victim or being a stranger? Beating someone with an ulterior motive behind it or because of circumstance?

  My attacker’s motives were predicated on evil and a twisted sickness. Becca’s were based on manipulation and revenge—and her being a twisted psychotic.

  I closed my eyes, trying to remember more. I know Becca had said something while I laid there drifting in and out of the fog. I remembered arguing with Becca and…being held down by Nikki. At some point Becca was leaning over me, upset that her necklace and its charm got caught in my hair. Like it was my fault that my head whipped back and forth as she was hitting me, getting my hair tangled in her necklace. She barked at Nikki and the other girl to help her get it loose. She practically pulled my hair out at its roots. It was something that Patrick gave her.

  I had seen that charm before…at Patrick’s. It was hanging on his bedroom mirror. It was one of those charms that is halved so two people could have a piece of it.

  She said… What did she say? She said…she wasn’t losing the charm or Patrick to me. Wait. That’s why part of my hair seemed a little shorter and I had a huge bump at the back of my head. She cut it to get her damn charm loose and let my head bang into the cement. Bitch.

  Oh, she was going to lose to me alright. I had to be sure of that. And the first thing she was going to lose was that stupid charm of hers.

 
Shirley Miranda's Novels