• If there was ever a time I was completely disconnected from reality, it was then. The world seemed to crash around me, leaving absolutely nothing in existence except for sight of the figure lying before me, covered in so much blood even I could not deny that he was dead. I slowly sank to my knees, unable to hold my self up any longer. I didn't want to believe it, I couldn't, yet at the same time, I couldn't deny the fact that I was now alone.

    Finally, the sight before me sunk in; my body shook as a choked sob escaped my throat, passing my lips and falling on deaf ears. No one was around to hear, see, or care about a simple girl with nothing more to live for, further assuring me that there was absolutely no one else I could turn to. I was no stranger to solitude, but the empty feeling of having absolutely no one was new to me, and I hated it.

    I hadn't realized I was screaming until my voice began forming coherent words that seemed to flow from my mouth with out first registering in my brain. "Why?" I shouted, though I knew no one was there to hear, "Why must I never be happy? What have I done to deserve a life full of nothing but misery?" Visions of my past flashed before my eyes, though I hardly recognized them as my own memories.

    I was three years old, stumbling through the mess of alcohol bottles that littered the floor of my family's small home. The air smelled of cigarette smoke and what I later recognized as multiple illegal drugs. My parents argued and yelled from the other room, the sound of a fist hitting flesh echoed around the house almost as loud has their voices had.

    Five years old, I watched the body of my mother be carried out of the dirty house on a stretcher, my father led away in hand cuffs by two men wearing guns on their belts. The casket lowered into the ground and I was taken to the orphanage.

    Eight, I watch the other children around me be adopted by loving couples, not failing to notice how none of the foster parents gave me a second look. I knew why I wasn't wanted. Born and raised in such an unstable environment, who knew what kind of trouble I'd cause for some one in the future.

    Age twelve, I ran away. I refused to be subject to so many looks and gestures that only reminded me how unwanted I was. No one cared, no one bothered to stop or find me, it just meant one less mouth for the landlady to feed.

    Fifteen, I met the first person to look at me with something other that loathing, and I fell in love. I was happy for the first time. Things were finally going right...

    Present time, age sixteen. I've lost the love of my life. Complete and utter solitude is all that is left to feel.

    Gravity seemed to get much stronger, and I collapsed on the ground, grasping my chest, I felt like some one was squeezing my heart in a tight fist between needles. I couldn't breath, couldn't scream, nothing. My senses failed completely, and before I knew it, there was nothing. Just complete darkness, and finally, I could rest.