Tears ran soundlessly down my cheeks, my skin burned where they touched with the knowledge of what they represented. They represented my end. My final day was started by tears. This sickly, tiresome silence was what could be called the calm before the storm. I then left my warm, messy, loving bed for the last time. I brushed my hair and teeth – such mundane tasks – and then left my home. In reality it was only what used to be my home. The word home implies a warmth, and sentiment behind it, but there was none. All of that had died with the people in it. I stood in the middle of the street in military green shorts and a black turtle neck, staring at what was once a safe place. A place that once held all that was important to me for a little while. Now, nothing more than a shell, a hollow, evil reminder of all I once had, of my reason to live, and the constant reminder that they are all gone. My name was Jennifer, Jennifer Jones. My friends would have called me JJ if I had any. My name really never mattered though. I never really mattered, not to anyone. At the beginning of high school my parents and I moved to California. Once in California it seemed my fate was set. No one saw me. I sat in the back of the room for each class, no one ever tried to talk to me other then the teachers when they called on me in class, which they only did once in a blue moon. At least I had my parents that loved me though. They loved me so much, they really did. They would do anything for me, and they did. They would willingly give their lives for me, and they did that too...
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