• Streams of fire rained down on the treetops. A small town was nestled in the protecting arms of weeping willows and ginkgoes, the forest almost as old as the earth itself. On a hilltop so far away from the settlement, but close enough to hear the swish of leaves in the wind, a girl sat deathly still. She was not alone, yet the miserable ache called loneliness that had gripped her heart for the longest time did not move. That, however, changed the very second she bothered to turn her head and look at the person creeping out of the shrubs.
    The boy was undeniably scrawny, although not so much as the girl, and towered above her even after he plopped down next to her. His olive eyes and bronzed hair stood out from his startlingly pale skin dotted with freckles. He flashed a dazzling pearl smile and she could not help responding with one of a similar nature.
    She snuggled closer to him, resting her mop of obsidian colored hair on his right shoulder. For the first time in days, those hazel eyes were glistening. The multitude of scars and marks that encompassed most of her deep brown skin seemed to fade in her mind, and she was finally beautiful. She was always beautiful when she was with him.
    Once again, the pair were up on the hilltop, the only place both of them were happy at the same time. She prayed the sunset would not pass, and that they could stay like that forever. She did this every day, and every day the same thing happened. The sun finally sank from its already low perch in the sky. Once again, she had to return to that wretched place.
    "Do you really have to go, Catriona?" the boy practically whispered.
    "Come on Lewis, you know I have to." Lewis rose to his feet, then proceeded to help Catriona up. Hand in hand, the pair began the journey to the sleepy little town she called home.
    "You're going to keep your promise, right?" Lewis asked, voice edged with fear and anticipation.
    "Of course," she replied, "As soon as I open the letters and read them, I'll call you."
    "I know you're going to get accepted to everyone. I just know it."


    Catriona bounded up the walkway, feeling surprisingly ecstatic. The mail had come, and she was holding all six envelopes in her already sweaty hand. She threw the door open, but what met her was not pleasant, as to be expected. Why should something that's been the same for eighteen years change all of a sudden? A thick odor hung in the air, the scent she associated with her home. On a good day, it was cheap liquor and burnt out joints, but today there was something stronger, too. She walked in a very circumspect manner across the floor that was crowded with debris. There had been more than one occasion that Catriona accidentally stepped on a broken bottle or pipe, or even worse, a needle. All of this could have been avoided if she wore shoes, but she hadn't owned a pair since she was two. Her ears had been tuned since she came through the doorway, listening carefully for any sign of life.
    "Someone must be home," she thought. Catriona crept up the staircase, each creaky step resonating through what seemed to be an empty house. For the first time in a while, she shut her bedroom door without a forceful slam. There was no mother to argue with, or 'stepfather' to scream at, and therefore no reason to stomp and rant and rave as she did every day. Instead, she slunk in the furthest corner of her cramped living quarters and rested her weary head in marred hands. The envelopes lay scattered at her feet, each one embellished with a different ornate seal. Catriona reached out for the one closest to her, trembling with anticipation and dread. After ripping the seal and pulling out the letter, she only read the first sentence, her heart sinking with each word. Her application had been declined. She tore into envelope after envelope, and each letter read the same thing. Dismay was written all over her face, contorting it in the worst of ways. Tears nearly blinded her as she got up, dragging her feet through the soft carpet. Stopping in front of the remains of the mirror she shattered ages ago in a fit of rage, she stared at the girl who was Catriona Sinclair. Her eyes rested on the penknife that lay on the dresser.
    “I can end it all, right now.” The dismal thought bounced around in her head. She gradually reached for the knife, but something pinned to the mirror caught her attention. It was a picture of her and Lewis at the park, one of the few pictures she owned where she was smiling. Her previous melancholy thought was swapped with cheerful memories, all of which involved him. He was the one who persuaded her to apply for college, to make something of herself so she could live a better life. They would live a better life. She grabbed the car keys and dashed outside.
    The long drive on the highway always unsettled Catriona, but it was the only way out of their sleepy little town. The trip to Lewis’s house was nearly an hour and a half, and most of it was spent on that one road. She stretched her arm out to grab her cell phone, so she could at least let him know she was coming over. The few moments she averted her eyes from the road sealed her fate. By the time she looked back up, she could not avoid the massive Mack truck headed in her direction.


    Lewis sat in the den, idly flipping through channels. He glanced at his new iPhone every few seconds, wondering why he had not received any calls yet. He stopped on the news. Turning around, he nervously eyed the clock. It was past eleven and there had been no word from Catriona. He wondered if she was okay. As he picked up his jacket to retrieve his car keys from its pocket, the voice of the woman on television stopped him.
    “A horrible accident occurred earlier this evening on Rosemary highway. A large truck was seen barreling down the street on the wrong side of the road, and it struck a car head on. The young girl who was driving died on impact, and her body has yet to be identified. The footage taken by our cameramen was too gruesome to be shown tonight, but can be viewed on our website. The driver of the truck-”
    Lewis stopped listening. He hated these kinds of stories, where innocent people died because of some drunken fool. He hurried out of the door, hoping the accident had not caused traffic to back up too much.