Deadly (Complete)

Deadly

May 27, 2016

My name is Brooke, and apparently I'm a murderer. Or at least that's what my therapist tells me. The thing is, I don't remember doing any of the stuff she claims I have. Mrs. Baker, with her blonde hair and petite build, looks more like a cheerleader than a therapist, but I guess if she says I'm a cold-blooded killer, I'm supposed to believe her. But since I can't remember anything, or even who's dead, she's making me write a journal. She swears that years of schooling (a waste of time if you ask me), taught her that writing can help resurface lost memories.
I don't know why I agreed though. I mean, what seventeen year old wants to be a killer? Honestly, I think she has to be wrong. I'm a vegetarian who wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone a human being. How could I be responsible for someone's death?

The only reason I did agree to this is to prove I'm innocent. The police allegedly have "compelling evidence" that I'm to blame, but after I write everything, they'll know they're wrong.
So how about I start with this:
My name is Brooke Mae Anderson, I am seventeen years old, I have blonde hair and green eyes, I am five foot tall, and I am NOT a killer.

August 18, 2015

This was the first day of Junior year, and of course I was the new girl. It wasn't unfamiliar for me though. I've always been the new girl. Mom grew up as a military brat and couldn't stay in one place for more than a year. Dad was off in Europe with his latest girlfriend and could care less about my existence. So I was stuck with a woman who couldn't even live in one place long enough for the dust to settle on the floor. This time we ended up in South Carolina, but we had moved all over the east coast, sometimes staying in the same state but a different city, and sometimes going to a different time zone. I had no say in her choices, either way, so every year I'd pack up and leave my just-made friends to try to find new ones.
My first class of the day was English, and I noticed him as soon as I walked in. He was sitting in the middle of the room, but he stood out from all the rest. He was like a beacon of light and I was like a moth being drawn to him. His black hair was kept short back then, and it spiked up a little in the front. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt, with white sneakers. He had a gorgeous smile with perfect teeth. But his most stunning feature was evident as soon as he looked my way. I was used to everyone looking at me on my first day, but when I saw his icy blue eyes drift up to meet mine, I held my breath. I couldn't help it. He was gorgeous.
The teacher had made my introductions, and then she told me to take a seat. I had to walk past the boy to get to an empty one, and I felt my cheeks deepen into a blush as I passed him. He watched me the whole time. It wasn't that I was unused to the attention from boys my age, because I knew they found me attractive. It was because I had never had a boy as handsome as him look at me like that before.
I sat down, and for the rest of class, nothing important happened. Really, the rest of the morning was uneventful. Then came lunch. Every new kid knows this is probably the worst part of being new. I tried to find a spot and as I was looking around I saw him in the back, standing up and waving his hands. I wasn't sure if it was my attention he was trying to get, but when he yelled my name I hurried over, face down to hide my red cheeks.
He grinned at me and I saw that his only imperfection was a dimple in his left cheek, and freckle that sat precisely on it. I sat down beside him and for the rest of lunch he asked me questions about my life, and vise versa. I found out he had an older brother away at college, a doctor for a dad, and a mom who was pregnant with his little sister to-be. His favorite color was grey, which I thought was strange. I asked him about it and he said it was because it was the color of the sky during a thunderstorm. I think that's when I started to fall for him. He actually thought about things in life, instead of running around doing the same thing as every other teenage boy. And his name was Scott Lee Carpenter. He was amazing.