The album cover had a thin layer of dust across it as I pulled it out from under my bed. The familiar weight of it on my hands, and the thought of what was inside brought tears streaming down my face. Memories came flowing into my head, as they always did when I picked up the photo album.

“Who you love? Oh please don’t do this.” Spencer begged, looking at me absolutely heartbroken.

“Stop it. Both of you.” I said, hating the pressure they put on me. “I decide who I love…”

“THEN JUST DECIDE!” She screamed. I heard “Gun!” shouted behind me, and before I knew it, Aiden was pulling me down to the ground.

The next thing I remember was being in the hospital. The lobby was full of crying students and parents, waiting to see what happened to their friends. Aiden and I were fine. Aiden sat next to Madison, Glen, Chelsea, and Clay. On the other hand, I was looking frantically around for Spencer. Where was she? Was she hurt?

Another ambulance pulled up and Spencer was wheeled in. Her dress was covered in blood, and her face was a pale white.

“Spencer!” I screamed, grabbing her ice cold hand. “It’s going to be ok baby…” They wheeled her into the ER doors, as I paced the lobby, unable to sit down and relax. Arthur Carlin burst in the doors, asking for his wife and Spencer.

“Where is she Ashley?” I pointed to the ER doors, just as Paula Carlin walked out, tearing a bloodstained hospital gown from her body. She shook her head, and erupted into tears as Arthur, Glen and Clay, hugged her. The shock of losing Spencer was unbearable, as I passed out on the lobby floor…

It was almost too painful to remember. Once they had woken me up, the Carlin’s brought me downstairs to look at Spencer one last time. Her whole body was pale now, but she was still the Spencer I loved. The image of her dead body still haunts me now, 3 months later. I would carry it with me my whole life.

I slowly opened the album cover, and saw the first picture that I loved so much. It was Spencer and I at the pier. I was kissing her cheek, and she was blushing and smiling, looking absolutely adorable. I started to sob hard, so I slammed the album shut, and threw it on my floor. It was too much to deal with. I had to go day by day, trying so hard to mend my broken heart. I spent most of my time indoors, in a dingy little apartment I bought after the accident. I didn’t want to live in the mansion anymore. Everything reminded me of her. My bed, where we had spent so many hours, and everything in my room, which had once been touched by her. Kyla kept trying to get me to come home, but nothing would work. I didn’t want to go back to King High ever, and have everyone stare at me. I wanted to leave my old life behind. Hell, I wanted to leave my memories of Spencer behind, so it wouldn’t hurt so much.

I looked at my clock. 5 pm. I have one hour.

I changed into a wife beater and athletic shorts, and wrapped my hands. I grabbed my keys, and headed down to the bar.

It wasn’t an ordinary bar. Fights were held every night. I had been competing for three months straight. I didn’t even try to fight back, as much bigger women punched and kicked me. I wanted to feel pain; I wanted to be punished.

“Davies. You competing tonight?” The owner asked, even though he knew damn well I was.

“Yeah.”

“Who you want?” He pointed to a group of women. As always, I would pick the biggest out, wanting to get hurt. “Her? Jeez, Davies. I think she almost killed a person once. Ya sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” The owner talked to the announcer who called both me and the other girl to the ring. I put on my mouth guard, even though I didn’t really care if all my teeth got knocked out. The bell rang and I approached her, giving her one swift punch to the chest. She didn’t seem to feel it though, because she charged back at me, punching me in the stomach, chest, and face. She kicked my knees, and they buckled as she pummeled me to the floor. Of course, she won, and I had to be escorted out of the ring, because I could barely stand up on my own. I got to the bathroom, took the tape off my hands, and washed the wounds. I looked at myself in the mirror. I remembered what I used to look like when I was with Spencer, happy and beautiful. Now, I had a big black eye, and plenty of other bruises. I was satisfied with the fight. It had hurt, but I deserved to be punished. I should be the one dead, not Spencer.

And if I only could, make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places.