Um...I don't know what else I'm gonna really be putting on here. Something else is coming soon, from a different platform, and I'd kind of rather just let that one speak for itself. But, you guys have been following this for this long, so...I guess I'm still writing here.

So, I guess I just hope that everyone reading this will be kind in the future. Everything is difficult right now. Honestly? Life sucks right now. I never thought I would be in the position I'm in, and I think that everyone around me is starting to forget who I used to be. So, before more shit hits more fans, maybe you'll read about who I used to be.

I used to be the girl who couldn't get an invite to a single party in high school. I used to be the girl who hadn't had a drink until she was legally allowed to. I used to be the girl who was a virgin, who thought she was waiting for marriage. I used to be the girl who went running every single morning without fail, thinking that if she missed a day she would gain back every pound she had struggled to shed. I used to be the girl who was overlooked, whose Instagram got four likes on a good post, and who looked up to 'popular' people like they were idols who lived on only the highest of pedestals.

A lot about me has changed since things started to spin out of control. And a lot has gone so terribly wrong. But on the other hand, a lot has gone right. A lot of my mindset has been changed.

I haven't felt guilty about missing days at the gym. I haven't thought about my weight in weeks. I haven't thought about the way my thighs jiggle when I sit down or how my stomach isn't flat like it was when I was in eighth grade. I stopped looking up to the people I placed on pedestals because I got the inside look at their lifestyle, and it wasn't anything like I thought it would be. I saw that the pedestals I put these people on were built on sand, and they've crumbled to the ground now.

The perfect girl who I started following on Instagram two years ago, aspiring to be just like her, is the exact opposite of everything I want to be.

I know everyone on here is judging me, and I don't blame you. I opened myself up to that when I decided to air my dirty laundry online. It is what it is. But I just wanted to point out the fact that I used to be a different person. I used to care a lot more about what you all think. And I don't anymore.

So, through all the shit in my life right now, I have one small glimmer of hope to hold onto.

><><><

Rebecca had never been good at waking up in the morning. It was one of the things she was worst at, as a matter of fact. She slept through alarms, snoozed the ones that roll onto the ground before they could even get off of the bedside table, and didn't usually wake up to the sun shining on her face either. However, that was before she had slept through Kennedy taking off to fix her car in a different state at the crack of dawn. After that night, Rebecca's anxiety woke her up at every sound.

She woke up to the first ring of her phone on Monday morning. Five days until her piece was due.

Rebecca rolled over in bed and picked up her phone, blinking in an effort to clear her vision enough to read the caller ID. She gave up after five blinks and answered on the fourth ring, clearing her throat loudly.

"Rebecca Eaves speaking."

"Rebecca, hi, it's Brianne Hotchky, hope I didn't wake you."

Rebecca rolled her eyes and didn't respond. She checked her Fitbit—8:19 AM—and wondered why in the world Kennedy's lawyer had to be calling her before normal people were awake.

"Anyway," Brianne continued, "I'm calling you to ask you to do me a favor. Or, rather...not do anything."

"That doesn't make any sense," Rebecca yawned, "Just tell me what you want so I can go back to sleep."

"There's a story that's going to break at 10 AM. It's about Kennedy and I just...I'm begging you, Rebecca. Please don't comment on it. Don't give a quote to a reporter, don't tell them anything, just...stay silent. Not a peep. Please."

Rebecca was silent. She thought through her possible responses. She could promise not to say anything. Perhaps she owed Kennedy that much. Perhaps she owed the girl who had tried to ruin Rebecca's life to save her own that much.

Then again, when she thought about it that way, she realized that she didn't owe Kennedy a single thing. But she also wasn't a terrible human being—contrary to what seemed to be a quite popular belief.

"Why?" She finally asked when Brianne didn't say anything else, waiting for a response. "Why is this so important?"

Brianne sighed—a loud, impatient sound that made Rebecca feel like she was back in grade school being reprimanded by her least favorite teacher.

"Because, Rebecca." She responded. "It is important to Kennedy's future and the future of her case that you say absolutely nothing."

"Well, I don't really have a reason to do her any favors." Rebecca replied, shrugging to herself.

"I am begging you, Rebecca." Brianne insisted, "Actually begging. If we were having this conversation in person, I would be on my hands and knees."

"That seems unprofessional." Rebecca retorted, "I'm not making any promises. But I won't speak to anyone right away."

She hung up the phone before she could hear a reply from Brianne. She checked the time again: 8:26 AM. An hour and a half until this story was supposed to break.

So, Rebecca waited. She waited and wondered about what could possibly be so important for her to not speak about. She made herself some protein waffles and a kale smoothie while she waited, checking her computer for the latest stats on her website traffic. There wasn't too much of a change in viewership, but Rebecca was sure that would change once whatever news was about to break, actually broke.

9:04 AM.

She finished her breakfast and closed her laptop. Wandering into the bathroom aimlessly, she started her skincare routine. Salicylic acid cleanser to fight her cystic acne. Hyaluronic acid serum for hydration. Moisturizer for extra hydration. Mineral sunscreen because if you're not using sunscreen, the rest of your routine is practically useless. Brushed teeth. Brushed hair. Contacts in.

9:21 AM.

Rebecca left the bathroom and got herself ready for the day. She put on some mascara, did her eyebrows and tried not to think about the giant zit sitting on the left side of her chin. She put on an outfit that was comfortable but still cute, and drank her water. If she was going to drink a gallon a day, she needed to start early.

9:43 AM.

Running out of ways to distract herself, Rebecca turned on a random makeup tutorial and watched it while keeping one eye on the clock. When the clock struck 10:00, she wasn't sure what she was waiting for—a news article? Something on the TV? An Amber alert? Something that would tell her what she was explicitly told not to speak about?

Her phone buzzed at 10:01.

Google Alert: keyword: Kennedy Abrams

Rebecca clicked on the link that accompanied the alert and was taken to an article shared to their local news site at exactly 10:00 AM. She wondered how Brianne Hotchky had been so on the nose.

In a case that has taken most of South Carolina by storm, 22-year-old Kennedy Abrams has been accused of hitting motivational speaker and millionaire Hank Wilcox with her car back in September and subsequently killing him. Her case has captured the attention of a nationwide audience, but her status as a student at Clemson University has caused a stir in the state of South Carolina in particular. A new update has recently been released regarding Abrams' impending trial: there may not be a trial after all.

That's right, folks: Abrams' attorney and the state have been in discussions about a plea deal for the college student to avoid a long and expensive trial. According to sources, the two opposing sides have been in discussions for just under a week about their plea deal, and they should be finishing up their negotiations by Wednesday afternoon, if the state has their way.

Rebecca paused in reading the article, slightly confused. She wasn't sure what she would have to comment about—certainly nothing to the point that Brianne Hotchky would need to call her, begging her to keep her mouth shut.

She kept reading, and suddenly, everything made sense.

The thing that would cause the long and possibly grueling trial would be if the state received hard, certain evidence that Abrams was indeed the one who hit and killed Wilcox. So, in other words...speak now, or forever hold your peace. And many people may be looking at a certain new blogging phenomenon to be the one who speaks out.

Rebecca felt her chest clench at the last sentence, fighting the urge to puke up her very delicious breakfast.

A/N: Okay...can I just say two things: 1. I am so sorry for the hiatus, but it was #NaNoWriMo, and I had to start a new novel for it, duh. But Treadmill is officially BACK! And 2. Taylor Swift's new album just came out, I am absolutely LIVING for it, and "no body, no crime" IS LIKE THE PERFECT SONG FOR THIS BOOK?? GO LISTEN TO IT NOW??

Anyways. That's it. Also this book is gonna have a sequel. Surprise!