Melanie Frostwood is the antonym of safe. She is everything my parents warned me against. Everything about her screams danger, but I'm unable to stay away from her. She is a Queen and I am an adoring servant, following her blindly into the fires of hell.
From the moment I first met her, I knew she was danger. Nothing about her was good. She was the personification of everything that was wrong with the world and I couldn't resist her. Melanie Frostwood was the exact kind of girl my mother warned me against; the old woman would surely slit her wrists if she knew how obsessed with her I had become.
The day we first met, I'll never forget. It was a random Thursday in October and she was new to Origin Academy. The first thing that caught my attention –everyone's attention really – about her was the deep mahogany of her skin. It was a stark contrast to the ivory and alabaster tones of everyone else we had been so accustomed to. We had had other students of African decent in our schools over the years but most of them never stuck around long –the ones that did were culturally white any way and often managed blend in so well until they were simply forgotten. Melanie however would never allow herself to blend in with the mainstream society constructed by our school; she deviated from our standards and norms effortlessly and it was her ability to think on her own –the fact that she didn't allow our expectations determine what she did and didn't do– that made her stand out most.
Chemistry was the subject we shared and as fate was cruel, she was assigned the seat two behind me. Even though I was curious of her, much like everyone else, I couldn't get even a small glimpse at her. I found myself looking over my shoulders more often, feigning some sort of uncomfortable stretching motion just so that I might catch even the slightest look at her.