I never knew how I was supposed to feel.

I was always someone's little puppet. Their little toy. It started with Alison. I was more of her experimental game than her lover or even her friend. We went far for two girls in the eighth grade. As far as I would let her go. I couldn't have sex with a girl. That was out of the question. I was a good girl. Good girls did not kiss other girls. It was the logic I was taught as a kid.

I was her puppet. She pulled all of my strings. She made me want to beg for more, every single time. Her embrace was enough to make me weak in the knees. Her sweet kisses were enough to make me crave for her. Every single time.

Then Maya came along. Maya adored me. She might have polluted my mind, but unlike Alison, she was actually attracted to girls. She put the moves on me. I wasn't just her little toy. That kiss in the photobooth was rough. It wasn't sweet or tender like Alison's was, and it was more of a shock. Though for a split second, I imagined Alison there. She was hovering over us. I wanted her to be envious. I wanted her to think I moved on from grieving over her death.

There was something wrong with me.

But there was some testosterone in the mix. He was Toby Cavanaugh. The killer. The bad boy. The person who I just had to sit next to in Chemistry. Why me? Why? He was psychotic, but sweet. Maybe I wasn't his toy. Maybe guys were different. Was I even attracted to boys though? I could force myself. I was supposed to be with men. That's the logic I was taught since I was a little girl. Girls married boys. Girls kissed boys. Girls fell in love with boys. Girls loving girls or boys loving boys was unthinkable, especially with my close minded mother.

Then homecoming came along. Toby had to ask me. I couldn't resist. It was what I was supposed to do. The strings were pushing me towards him... and Emily. And Alison. It was an endless Tug-O-War game, and I was the rope.

He then asked for us to go upstairs. It was quieter. He wanted to tell me something. I didn't know what to expect. He pulled me up there with me.

My ring tone rang through the room. He pleaded me not to answer. He wanted me to hear it from him. Then suddenly, I got a text message. The girls were obviously desperate to contact me.

"You're with Ali's killer. We have proof!" The text read. I glanced up at him, shocked.

"Was that one of your friends?" He forced himself onto me, grasping onto my wrists. I ran. I didn't care about this any more. I couldn't. Blood appeared everywhere, as I dashed through the mirrors.

That was how the puppet got rid of her strings.

Hope it didn't suck too much. Reviewreviewreview! I know you people only like Ezra&Aria, but Emily's cool too and reviews make me happy, so yeah. Thank you for reading anyway.