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<div style="border:1px #ccc solid; background-image:url('/images/ray.gif'); font-family:arial; width:200px; padding:5px;"><center><div style="font-size:20px;"><a href="/story/m3gG1e9o0/18399">Shakes and Shivers (My blood's turned cold) - Part 1</a></div><table><tr><td width="50"><div style="color:#2CC362; font-size:15px; padding-top:4px; background-image:url('/images/profratebg.gif'); background-repeat:no-repeat; width:44px; height:26px; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; vertical-align:middle; padding-top:8px; padding-left:1px; " valign="top">7</div></td><td><div style="height:100px;width:100px; padding-top:9px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url(/images/storyCover.png);"><a href="/story/m3gG1e9o0/18399"><div style="margin-left:9px; __padding:0px; height:90px; width:70px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url('http://www.testriffic.com/storyfiles/18399.jpg');"></div></a></div></td></tr></table></center></div>

+ 2	Stupid me...
+ 5	Love is an Illusion
+ 5	Cheat Sheet for Life (more ranting)
+ 7	Shakes and Shivers (My blood's turned cold) - Part 1
+ 6	My Very Own Tragic Love Story
+ 9	My View on Love

   Kirsti woke up shivering, and not because of the cold. She wished these nightmares would stop, it had been almost three years since… well, since it had happened. Now she just wanted to forget everything and pretend she was just a normal girl, living a normal life.If you were to ask her classmates, they would tell you she was less than a normal girl. She wasn’t a cheerleader, played no sports, wasn’t on the student council. She was a nobody, and she didn’t deserve to be treated any differently. At times, Kirsti cared little about what everyone thought about her. But at other times, she just wished they would leave her alone. She wanted to be invisible.   More than anything, however, she just wished the shrieking in her own head would cease. About how she was unfit to be human, how she was worthless, meaningless, without purpose. Often, these despised shrieks were in her mother’s voice, for that is what her mother thought of her. She wasn’t afraid to voice it in front of Kirsti either   For a while, she pretended it wasn’t her fault, that she could have done nothing to stop it from happening, but it wasn’t long before reality overcame her. At least, her idea of reality. In her mind, it was completely her fault; she should have done something. But the truth was, he was just too strong for her to have tried.   She sighed heavily, and got slowly out of bed. Grabbing the first articles of clothing she saw, she walking into the bathroom for her morning shower. She was in desperate need of one, after the latest re-run nightmare. Stepping into the steaming water, she tried to let it wash away everything: the pain, the guilt, the hopelessness. It didn’t exactly work though. I never completely did.   Kirsti walked up the stairs to find the house deserted. Finally, a day where her mother wouldn’t yell at her before she escaped to the safety of school. She made her way outside, walking slowly, as usual. What reason was there to hurry? At her usual turtle pace, Kirsti walked to the high school, a half mile away, and arrived, once again, 10 minutes before she had planned.   While everyone else walked around, chatting with friends, or hung out in the lunchroom, Kirsti made her way to her usual spot, the deserted auditorium. Putting her feet on the chair in front of her, she pulled out the book she had been reading. At last, some peace. It was easy to forget her nightmares here. It was like her own little world where she could forget herself, her life, her mother.   Then the bell woke her out of paradise to go to class. Oh, joy. She made her way up the stairs for Calculus, the perfect class to lift any 17 year olds spirit. And just to make things even better. It was taught by Ms. Calaster, the strictest, meanest, horriblest teacher in school. Maybe she was only mean because she was teaching the worst subject though.   Sitting at the desk farthest from the board, which, oddly enough, was closest to the door, Kirsti pulled out her notebook and a pencil. Throughout the class, she just sat taking notes and trying not to bring attention to herself. As long as she could survive the rest of the day, she could go home. Oh, wait. Home was just a different type of hell…   The bell rang, and Kirsti hurried through the door to make it to her next class, which was at the other side of the building. The problem with that was, she was going so fast, she ran into something, or someone, very solid. She scrambled to pick up her belongings, trying not to look up at what or whoever she had knocked into.   “Would you like some help with that?” said an unfamiliar voice.   “Umm, no thanks, I’ve got it.” Kirsti replied.   Whoever the voice belonged to kneeled down and began to help anyways. It was taking longer than perhaps Kirsti would have preferred, because her poetry folder had opened, and all of her poems had flown through the air. Kirsti glanced up to find a boy reading one of them. In horror, she grabbed it from him, and stuffed it hastily back in the folder.   “Did you write that?”   “Er, yeah.”   “It’s great!”   “Um thanks, I guess, but I’ve really got to go.”
   “Can I at least have your name?”   “Kirsti.”

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