Bad Influence

My name is Freya Wilson. I am not your typical girl next door. I'm far from it. As my mother likes to point out since I graduated high school, I should be planning my life instead of wallowing around the house in my pajamas all day. Girls my age are either preparing for college or taking advantage of the warm summer days that California provides in spades. She doesn't understand why I prefer to be stuck in my room, watching the world pass by. But there is a reason to my melancholy that she will never know. I'm in mourning. I morn a love I can never have.

I don't know who I am. I don't even remember what my name is. I was lost, confused, and broken the day I met them. My Angels. To the world, they're nothing but leather-wearing, foul-mouthed bikers, but to me, they are my saviors. The light at the end of a very dark tunnel. However, as my memory starts to come back to me in pieces, I fear the darkness ahead. Maybe the reason why I can't recollect anything is because I don't want to. Life is sweet in heaven. But hell doesn't want to let me go.

College. It was supposed to be my new start. I made a promise to my father I would be a good girl from now on - focus solely on the game and play nice for once. Aside from him, basketball is my only love, therefore sacrifices must be made all in the name of the game.