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"And the walls kept tumbling down in the city we love. Grey clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness to above."
Beatrice:

A simple click of the button is all that I need. Little things, big things, little sceneries, big sceneries, I have it on my camera.

Photography was an accident, it wasn't something that I initially planned on doing. I changed my entire lifestyle. I left my friends, my cheer outfit, my boyfriend and my old life behind the second I found the contraption.

I remember it all perfectly. How I was on my knees in the attic, digging through the dust covered chest with bronze embroidery. If it wasn't the camera that I was looking for, it was something, anything that would give me relief. Something to take my mind off all the hurt and pain.

The second that I found that black camera in the very bottom of the chest, a sprinkle of dirt and dust covering the lens and grey splatters on the entire frame, I never knew that it would change my life entirely.

Nature walks, music, drawing, writing—I tried it all. Nothing worked. There was nothing that I could do to change the fact that I left the group that I was so well known for being in, solely because I made a mistake which caused the cheerleaders to loose their winning streak at Nationals.

I remember after cleaning the camera up, how I brought it up to my face to test if it still worked. How I clicked on the button and saw a flash in front of the window, and out came a pale, blank Polaroid a second later. At first I didn't think the camera worked because the Polaroid didn't change at all, yet a minute later after shaking the picture, an image started to form in it.

A capture of the garden, the green sprawled across the lawn, purple nourishing flowers blossoming around the perimeter. A small fountain in the centre of the garden, a white detailed fence boardering our garden from our neighbours.

Red and yellow blossoms like wild flowers in the corner, patches of every flower building up the the garden. Small stones making a small pathway from the dove sculpted fountain to the cinnamon coloured patio.

I went down the attic stairs and into my bedroom, grabbing some tape. My entire room was blank, white walled with a bookshelf filled with things in be corner. I remember taking the tape, snapping a piece and then pasting the Polaroid in the centre of the empty wall.

I stared at the picture for quite some time, how it bounced some radiance into my empty eyesight. But that didn't stop me from noticing the red and white cheerleading uniform that was dangling on a hook against a nail on the wall. It was the only thing on the wall, the only significance of my three years at Elite Academy.

Tears blurred my vision, flashbacks of the team captain screaming at me. How I missed one move in the choreography that costed the team the championship title. How just like the snap of a finger I was off the team, sent home early from the hotel we stayed in, back to Chicago.

It was that little trigger that made me grab the cheer costume and rip it off the white wall, leaving a small chip of paint on the wall from the sudden action. I grabbed the skirt, opened my window with a burst and threw it out it.

It drifted onto the pavement, right in the section where we keep our garbage for the garbage man. The crop top rested in my palm before I felt a tear slip down my face, and I curled it into a ball, screaming in agony as I throw it into the black garbage bin in the corner.

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