1 Freedom Wall

The first ever childhood friend that I made was a girl that my dad tortured and killed in our basement. I sometimes wonder how much bleach it took to get the stains out on the floorboards after that gruesome event. It's an even bigger wonder how they sold that house afterwards; I might just roll down a red carpet and kiss the feet of the agent who managed to do that.

That was back when I was five years old. I'm 17 now. Besides worrying about the fact that I'm a serial killer's daughter, I battle through the trials and tribulations of high school. Well, school problems become pale next to what me and my mom went through years ago. And high school is not as predatory as preconceived by a lot of people due to media exposure.

People like to think that high school is supposed to be this place where everyone is divided into circles of textbook categories and there's a lot of bullying going on. Those are still true, but the bullying is subtle. For instance, Jemma from homeroom just invited my friend Cole to a party over the weekend. She did this in front of me.

"And oh. Um, Tessa. I guess you could come too," Jemma said. She had this face like she was trying to avoid grimacing but it just resulted too a tad bit forced of a smile.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm finishing an essay in advance that weekend," I told her as I shrug my shoulder. I try to make it seem that I wasn't offended that I was an afterthought.

"Classic Tessa," she said as she laughs without humor. I didn't think she wouldn't go that far but I just swept it under the carpet.

She then went back to her seat when the homeroom teacher finally started the class. His voice became murky to my ears when he started discussing about school events that I couldn't care less about. Cole taps my shoulder and smiled at me apologetically.

"Don't mind her," Cole whispered. "She's just trying to overcompensate to me because I carried her ass in a group project."

"Nice. Doesn't change the fact that she's a less pretty version of Regina George though," I tried to contain my laughter. Besides, Jemma isn't that popular. Her boyfriend is in the varsity and so she's able to use that as leverage. Other than that, she's pretty much another face in the crowd. "She always does that anyway."

"Why don't you just come with me to the party then," Cole said. I scoffed at his suggestion. "Come on. It'll piss her off more. I mean, technically she did invite you."

"Fine. But if I can't tolerate the place I'm going to need an escape plan from you."

The day went on smoothly after that. No drama like some adrenaline-filled episode of a teenage drama. No teen wolves running around saving the town, no glittery vampires ruling the social pyramid of the school, nothing special.

Except when Cole hung out at my place that night. That was when chaos ensued.

"I'm so bored," Cole whined. "Come on, big brain. Give me attention."

"Gross. What am I, your boyfriend?" I jokingly told him to which he snorted.

He was lying down on my bed while I was "cramming" my papers on the floor by the foot of the bed. My room looked like two different hurricanes went through it. For some reason, I only clean my room at 3 a.m. when I decided that the only thing I wanted to do was bring order to everything. Whoever said that it was the devil's hour must be wrong.

"Oh crap," the bed rustled at Cole suddenly sitting down. "Look at this. A golden nugget out of a thousand crappy posts in our school's freedom wall."

I stopped typing down the citations on the reference page of the paper that I was doing and closed my laptop. I settled beside Cole on my bed and looked at what he was talking about.

"Read it," he said as he handed me his cellphone.

"I want to stay grounded for once. I have changed states three times now. My mom is constantly paranoid of people finding out about us. She even went as far as to change our last name for 'protection' and I also had to change schools thrice. I'm so done with running away from who I was— of who I am. I'm so tired of avoiding confrontation," I stopped reading as my eyes widen at the last line. Cole signalled for me to continue seemingly overly thrilled. "I'm tired of denying the fact that I am a serial killer's daughter."

My heart skipped a beat. I thought those only happened in movies. At the same time, it was as if someone punched me in the gut. I was having a massive internal breakdown, I can't let myself be obvious to Cole or else his instincts will kick in and ask me why I was so affected by the post.

This whole thing. This thing publicized to almost everyone at the school to read. I didn't do it. Unless there's another person out there with the exact same story as me— which is impossible in any way— there wouldn't be a post like this.

Unless. Someone knows my secret.

Someone dug out my past so far behind and is spilling it to the internet, a secret now written in ink for everyone to feast on.

"This is great," Cole muttered. He was grinning, mind in a haze out of frenzied enthusiasm. His blood must be pumping in adrenaline because he's seeing a chance to be a Nancy Drew of the school and figure out who this mystery girl is. "Tessa, I need to know who this girl is or else I won't be able to sleep at night."

"That's probably not a good idea," I chided him. "Where's your empathy? This girl just wants to be left alone."

"Oh, I think there's other things in her mind if she's going to post about it on the school's freedom wall. People who post there— being left alone is the last thing in their mind."

"But what about her feelings? If people like you are trying to figure out who she is and expose her, her family will be forced to move out of town and do the whole cycle again."

"Come on, Tessa," Cole insisted. "This isn't an episode of Lizzie McGuire where we help people and do musical numbers on friendship and such—"

"Have you watched an episode of Lizzie McGuire—"

"The point is!" he interrupted. "This is high school. There's bound to be a scandal each year. We're graduating. I know this is THAT scandal."

"Stop that train of thought right there, Cole. We're not getting involved in this."

"You're not getting involved maybe. But me," he said as he jumped out of bed and paced around the room like a lunatic. "I'm the son of the sheriff. This is my thing. It's supposed to run in the family."

"This isn't a teen drama, Cole," I told him. "We shouldn't be making a big deal out of this."

I look him in his grey eyes, dilated in excitement. He was running his hands through his hazel hair as if he doesn't know what to do. Once Cole was determined to do something, it's pretty difficult to put a stop to it.

Forget what I said earlier. The plot has been triggered; soon each domino will be heavier than the one before. The sheriff's son who also happened to be my best friend is after my identity, the whole school now knows that the likes of me are in their midst, and someone out there knows my secret.

I'm screwed.

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