What if I told you that nothing is worth sacrificing everything? Not love, success, happiness...nothing.

Well, you would tell me I'm wrong.

And I am. At least that was what they used to say. That was what they used to say a long time ago. Or maybe not so long? I can't really remember. At least, I can remember they used to tell me that before everything happened.

I don't regret what happened, though. I don't regret anything, really. Just that I hadn't done everything that I did a little sooner, a little better.

Maybe if I'd gotten to them before they'd gotten to him, this could've been avoided.

I guess not, because this was supposed to happen. The way it did. This was unavoidable. Or at least that's what I believe.

They don't, though. They think I shouldn't've done it. But they don't understand. They don't understand anything.

He did. He once understood.

But he's gone now, and I can't do anything about it.

My name is Livia Michaels, and I am the reason Samuel Farron is dead.

-7 months ago-

"Hey, Liv! How much did you get?" My classmate Lena asked me, holding her paper up. It read a big A circled in red ink. "I got an A. Honestly would've never expected it. I, like, didn't study. At all." She says, obviously trying to sound as humble as she can. Her hazel-green eyes sparkle, as she waits for my answer. My eyes travel to her perfectly curled light brown hair, and notice that one red hairpin she always wears. Lena has always been at the top of every class we have together, even if she barely spares a minute for her assignments.

I stare at the sheet between my hands. C-. Not that bad. Maybe if I studied harder I could've gotten an A.

Well, that's never happening. Actually, it did happen once, in ninth-grade Geography. I had somehow gotten the only A in class, because I was the only one that had studied a part the teacher told us not to, and for that, she gave me an A. I don't even remember what it was about. The only thing I can recall of that day is how incredibly happy I felt, and the bitter faces on my classmates.

But I'm not a freshman in high school anymore. I'm a student in an average college, maybe, but this is still University. This is where my grades decide my future. I'm not sure if I even like the degree I'm getting, but this is the real deal. Even if it is in communications. Yes, I could change it anytime, but I feel like right now, it's too late. Time has caught up with me and I need to find a real job soon enough because my part-time waitressing isn't going to pay rent much longer.

"I got a C." I don't bother adding the 'minus' part. She doesn't need to know that.

"It's not that bad, you'll do better next time, I'm sure of it" she adds, her light dimming a little.

Lena is also one of the most cheerful people I've ever met, even if I barely know her. It's annoying sometimes, but she's more of a breath of fresh air when she's chill.

An awkward silence settles between us, stripping more of Lena's warmth. Saving me from the uncomfortable situation, the professor comes up to me, dismissing Lena and the others around us.

They all gladly comply, walking out of class. Meanwhile, Professor Stanley softens his bright eyes, shifting between mine and my paper. I may be 25 and experienced this talk more than a hundred times, but that doesn't mean that I'm comfortable with it now. I know what's coming, and Pr. Stanley knows that I know.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the subtly hurtful blow. I don't look into his eyes. I can't.

"I think you know why I'm here, don't you, Miss Michaels?" He doesn't wait for me to answer and continues, "You know I can only pass you if you're in the top 80% of the class. The end of this semester is coming, and I don't think I can pass you again. You need to up your game, or else you're going to be held back again."

I flinch at the 'again'.

"But sir, I'm not failing, and I'm not the worst one here. I don't understand why you can't bump me up a bit. Why are you only talking to me?" I ask, tears swelling in my eyes. I know the answer. I've heard it a million times already. Yet I can't help but ask.

"Because I believe you can actually do better and bump yourself up the ladder. If you work a tiny bit harder, you can surpass the one student ahead of you to pass." My eyes widen at the mention of one student only being ahead of me. They're in my way, and if I was just a tiny bit better than them, I could just be in the top 80. Professor Stanley notices, and a small smile creeps up on his face. "Yes, there's only one person ahead of you. And I don't think he can do better. But you can. Here," he hands me a sheet, with a few lines of questions that at first glance, seem utterly impossible to answer. "These are a few extra assignments I made for you. Your grade won't drop if you fail, they're made to help you. So, if you get a B or higher, I could definitely bump you up." He smiles at me.

"Alright, I'll try my best."

-

The day went by quickly. I was studying in the library, alone, with some nice Shubert in my ears, when I glanced at the clock after what felt like a maximum of 2 hours. It was already past 6:30pm, and that made me very late for work. I quickly packed my things and left, less than 30 minutes left for me to get to work. Which was doable, but still hard.

I turn the last corner to the diner I work in, swiftly avoiding getting hit by a kid in a bicycle. I raise my wrist to check my watch. 3 minutes left to spare. Good. I slow my breathing, trying to hide the fact I was running just a few moments ago. As I enter the door, I greet Alicia, a jet-black haired sixteen year old girl, that has worked here a lot longer than me. She's the assistant manager. There's also a rumour going around town that she's secretly dating her tutor, who is older than her just enough for it to be talked about.

I actually started working at Blue's Diner a few months ago, having been forced out of my last job at the local bar because of its closing. I was a bit glad it shut down, though. I didn't like my boss/the owner and didn't know how to tell him I wanted to quit. He had done some questionable things to his past employees, but no one had the guts to talk to the police about it, him being an uber-rich from out of town, who was able to ruin their lives with a snap from his fingers. He didn't do anything to me, though, even if I sometimes felt his presence a bit too close behind me while I worked.

"Busy night?" I asked, as I always did.

"Never." Alicia replied, without missing a beat.

Alicia turned away from the sink after racking a plate. She dried her hands, and gently rested her hands against the marble counter.

"There's one guy I haven't seen here before. Wanna take his order? I gotta finish the dishes first. Mason's still sick and it's Tuesday. So it's just me and you" She smiled.

Alicia was the closest thing I had had to a friend in years. She might just be a teenager, but she's wise beyond her age and also incredibly malicious. I like that about her, she spices things up during long shifts.

"Cool, we'll get to have some fun, then. I'll go take the newbie's order"

We call newbies the people that we've never seen at Blue's before because this is an old style diner, with mainly only regulars. They're usually middle-aged to elderly people, who came here once decades ago and probably decided it's their turf since. We rarely get anyone relatively young, so I was surprised when I saw a pair of white headphones from above the booth.

I take a subtle breath, and paste on my best smile, before closing the distance between the headphones and me. I take out my note pad and pen.

"Are we ready to order?" I chirp, cringing at my high-pitched voice.

I take a closer look at the figure in front of me: a man, mid to late twenties, brown hair, hazel-no-green eyes framed with round glasses and an overall soft but stern look. He was chewing on his lip, deeply concentrated in his papers.

This man is...something. I can't quite place it. I can't find the word right now.

Whatever, I'll find it one day.

Alicia coughs. I churn my neck towards her, and she's grinning, eyebrows raised.

I roll my eyes, and focus back on my task. I lower my head, trying to get the attention of the young man, who hadn't heard me earlier. His eyes dart and immediately land on mine, a glint of embarrassment appearing after a fraction of a second. The young man releases a deep, throaty chuckle, which makes his Adam's apple bob. He takes off his headphones, mumbling apologies, a light pink shade coating his cheekbones.

"Hey, sorry to disturb you but can I get you anything?" I repeat, finding myself chuckling too.

"I'm so sorry, yes, could I get a large cream coffee please?" He asks, still a bit rosy.

This is a diner, not a café. If he wanted coffee, he should've went to Starbucks or something. Lucky for him, we have a small variety of hot beverages. And it includes cream coffee.

"Yes, of course. Could I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you so much"

"You're welcome, one large cream coffee coming right up. We are doing a 20 percent discount for anyone that comes in three times within today and the 14th, if you would be interested, I could get a coupon for you to fill out the times you're here." I announce, reciting the text they had us memorize a few days ago. For the first time in a while, the customer seemed genuinely interested in the offer I was making.

"You know what? Sure, why not!" He answers, his green eyes glinting in the neon-lights.

"Alright, the only thing I will be needing is your first name or nickname, and I'll be right back"

"I'm Samuel. Sam for short"