I was that nervous. Here I was running from a crime I didn’t even commit, with no fucking way to prove that I didn’t do it. I mean, who would murder the only friend they had in the world? That shit made no sense. I didn’t even have time to mourn for Maria—although my heart was in pieces over her murder. It was my fault, too. From the DVD I could tell whoever murdered Maria wanted revenge on me—this shit was the setup. She had been used as a pawn in a game to take me down—but why? I knew people were jealous of me, but this was taking it too far. Although I had everything I could dream of, and I stepped on people’s backs occasionally to get where I needed to be, I would never have expected that someone hated me so much that they’d frame me for murder. And it wasn’t just any murder—the murder of my best fucking friend in the world. I didn’t even have time to grieve right now. If I would have stayed around crying and feeling sorry for myself and for Maria, I would have been going up the river without a paddle.
