Author's Note- Hi! This is my very first fan fiction I've ever written. I do not own Bully, all rights are reserved to Rockstar Games or Bully (unfortunately).

Amelie woke up in a daze. Her vision blurred around her, making everything seem hazy and distant. She leaned up slowly, groping for her glasses in the dark. Once the thin wire was resting comfortably against her ears, she glanced across the room at her nightstand. The harsh, red numbers of her alarm clock read 2:38 a.m. Realizing the ungodly hour at which she had awoken, Amelie immediately pulled the covers up over herself and flopped on her side. Insomnia was dangerously encroaching her thoughts as she panicked and sat up straight. Breathing slowly, Amelie lifted her long, pale fingers to her temples and rubbed soothingly. She silently hummed to herself, trying to calm her nerves.

She had been down this road again and again, and this time was no different. Her anxiety of the past few days had ravaged against her will, making days agitated and nights unbearable. In fact, anxiety in general seemed the only thing on her mind these days. Worried about the new year. Worried about making friends. Worried about the panic attacks. Worrying about her new school. Worry, worry, worry. She hated the term "worry-wart", it was vulgar and unrepresentative of her condition. Amelie simply thought of her constant thinking as a drawback to being overly caring and, not to mention, intelligent. Her mind was constantly racing due to her concern about everything. It made her feel special, as if she was better than others- but she would never mention this to others. The obvious irony of her dilemma was apparent to her; nevertheless, Amelie kept up her relentless act of being the best. It made her feel in control- of her life, of everyone's lives.

Amelie was leaving for her new school, Bullworth Academy, in the morning. She had never had many friends at her old school, so she lay awake thinking of all that could go wrong. No one would sit with her at lunch; no one would want to talk to her; etc. Not to mention the fact that she had never even been to New England before. All she knew was her southern lifestyle. This was going to be interesting.

It was never going to get her anywhere staring at her ceiling fan spinning back and forth, back and forth. Amelie reached her arm under her bed, grabbing an old, torn-up book. The book had been dog-eared, ripped up, dropped in puddles, you name it. Her eyes glazed the book's cover while resting comfortably on her pillows. The Velveteen Rabbit. This particular book had a magical quality that drew Amelie to it when her mother and father had first given it to her on her 3rd birthday thirteen years ago. It calmed her in these times of anxiousness. Feeling the familiar texture of the paper, the wonderful easiness of holding the book in her hand.

Amelie had snuggled in closer to the headboard of her bed and turned the floor lamp on. Delving into the story she had nearly memorized page for page, the familiarity calming her nerves. "There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid…"

Soon enough, her eyelids drooped and her pulse slowed as she eased into unconsciousness. She had missed the sound of the thud the book made against the carpet as her hand released it. The book would work… for now.