"And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins."

Text to: Caro Forbez                                                                                                                                                               omw!!! can't wait to see you <3          

                                                                                                                            read; yesterday 9.36 p.m.

I, PALOMA CECILIA ARENDS WAS NEVER MEANT FOR LOVE. I learned this when that boy, I think his name was Alex, kicked me in the face when I was ten, forcing one of my front teeth out of my mouth.

I knew this when my parents were laying on the fluffy white carpet in the living room of our New York apartment. I used to pretend I was a cave woman, lying on the wool of a sheep I had shorn, their blood had turned the wool a nasty color, it smelled like wet dog.

I knew this when my boyfriend thought I had done it, when he testified against me in a court of law. Had he known me this badly all along?

I knew this, yes, but I hoped to forget. For a little while at least.

Today I stand in damp grass, my pale blue heels have sunken into the moist dirt and the blades of grass are tickling the tops of my feet.

The house is nothing like I am used to, all white with a deck to sit on, a large yard, coziness.

It feels like home anyway, from when Caroline and I used to play in this grass, when we were still young and there was nothing to worry about.

I knock on the door, my knuckled playing a rhythm I didn't know I knew. No one answers.

Luckily I remember auntie Liz telling me about a spare key, hidden in the remnants of a birds nest.

There is bird house on the side of the wall, Caroline must have painted it when she was young but the paint has worn off by now, leaving specks of a dusty pink. I reach into the birdhouse carefully, the inside is covered in spiderwebs and dirt but before I can recoil, I feel some twigs, the broken shell of a tiny egg and underneath the hard iron of a key.

The key in the lock turns slowly, and yes I know I control the key, but it feels like the key might have more power over me than I over it. Am I scared of what I'll see? The door creaks and moans like it used to at least. When I step inside my fears melt in the sun, I smell it. It smells like small town and Caroline Forbes, like perfume and the green grass trampled into the welcoming mat, a hint of sweat.

Nostalgia isn't something that comes easily to me, but today it just seems to overwhelm.

There are picture frames standing on the cabinet against the wall, Caroline when she was still so little, wearing a pink princess dress and a gigantic smile.

A picture of Caroline and her dad, when he was still around, they are eating cotton candy, a bit seems to have gotten stuck in Caroline's hair.

A picture of my mom and dad. I pick up the picture and wipe some of the dust off their faces, I hadn't noticed the small candle burning beside it before.

I feel the corners of my lips pulling on my face, the beginning of a smile starts to grow, it isn't large but it's something more. More than it has been for the last couple of months.

I have been working in "at leasts" since the incident. At least they died quickly, at least I didn't, at least I had the money to pay for an attorney. I'm sick of at leasts.

My phone hasn't rung in the meantime, so another phone call to my aunt is made, to no avail.

I return to my car in an attempt to be productive, it's a sleek matte black Audi R8, I got it for my sixteenth birthday, there was this giant bow wrapped around it and I cried, I think.

I fish a piece of luggage out of the passenger seat and drag it up the stairs through the hall and into the only room with an open door. It's a small room, with just a bed, a desk and a closet. I don't want to be ungrateful, no not at all, but living like this is something I need to get used to.

No one is home and I can't keep myself from snooping around, I have always been way too curious for my own good. I follow the hall, some of the white paint on the walls is cracking, there are streaks of color where Caroline must have drawn when she was small. Caroline's room is on my left, it can't be missed since her name is written on the door in bright pink letters. The door opens and what I see inside doesn't surprise me. Nothing screams Caroline Forbes like her room. It's neat and organized, with matching whites and pinks throughout. There are shelves bolted to the walls which are filled with trophies, for beauty pageants, cheerleading competitions, even a couple of old girl scout badges. Caroline Forbes always wins when she puts her mind to it.

Her closet contains fine fabrics, cute tops, a couple of covered up dresses that feel too private for me to open. I close the door to the closet behind me and stroll over to my niece's desk. There are schoolbooks and markers in every color of the rainbow, maybe even more.

Pictures cover the walls they make my breath hitch. I used to have pictures up like this in our house, of the people who used to be my friends. But with Caroline everything is genuine.

The pictures are of Caroline with her friend, all the school-pictures that have ever been taken of her, Caroline with her dad's family. There is one of Caroline and I, but looking at it makes me feel oddly uncomfortable. I don't remember looking like that, without this pale scar on my somehow even paler neck. The picture is of me laughing, bug-eyed, my front tooth had just been kicked out and I remember how I used to wiggle my tongue in the gap. How empty it felt.

Sixteen was the age that changed it all, when everything suddenly felt empty, when I started remembering things that had never happened.

I didn't sleep for week because every single time I closed my eyes I would see myself get killed. By beasts with sharp teeth ripping into my neck, slowly dying of the plague, my lungs giving in.

I dreamt about being smothered with a pillow, how a feather creeps into my throat and I scream and I beg the person suffocating me to stop, but it only costs me oxygen.

There is a large standing mirror in Caroline's room and I can see my entire body in it.

As always I am wearing an outfit that matches, a pale blue skirt with a white shirt and a scarf and heels matching in blue. The skin underneath the scarf gets irritated sometimes, so I pull on it to itch.

My hair is curling in a weird way, so I blow one of the bright red strands away from my face and tuck it behind my ear with a long nailed finger.

Caroline's room feels like a home, but it's time to make my own.

Back in my room I start slowly sorting through clothes and organizing my closet, the heels are a nuisance so I kick them off and put on a pair of white sneakers.

I get back to the task at hand, slowly and carefully folding and hanging clothes into the tiny closet. I used to have a walk in. This is only the first suitcase and the clothes are already too much for its shelves. These clothes, they are all from a time when these were things that mattered. When Eloise and I would do anything to get our hands on that new Prada bag. Before she accused me of the murder of my parents, testified against me in a court of law.

Dresses have started slipping off their hangers, but something else has caught my eye and I can't be bothered to lift them back up. There is a dress laying on the bottom of the suitcase, it has been covered but I know what's in there. It's black and long with some lace. I bought it for the funeral,  before I was arrested, before the trial started. I throw it into of the drawers harshly and slam it closed, to never be seen again.

I hear a phone ring downstairs, when I feel around in my pockets I don't feel mine and realize that I must have left it downstairs. I skip off the steps into the living room and get the phone from the cabinet on which the picture of my parents stands.

The caller ID says Auntie Liz.

"Auntie!" I say. My voice is shrill because of the damage to my vocal chords, I have the tiniest twang of an accent. At least, I think so. Liz starts to sniffle on the other side of the line.

"Paloma sweetheart, I am so sorry I couldn't be there to welcome you. It's Caroline, she's been in an accident." My heart drops so fast that I think it might sink into these wooden floors if I don't watch out.

"She is in surgery right now, I think you should come." I walk for the counter and pick up my keys before my aunt can finish her sentence.

"I'll be there in ten."