Essential Questions

"What you're feeling is completely normal. Pain is something we all go through, so everyone can relate to the things you're going through."

"Ha, Pain. It's unavoidable, I get that. But I don't understand why it has to vary so much.I mean, some people may go through their

whole lives and only brake an arm, or a leg, and that's it. It's the only "trauma" in their lives. I consider them lucky. They go through the

simplest type of pain, the physical one. But what about the people that go through the worst kind? The kind that's all-consuming, and

maddening. Emotional pain. It doesn't start with a punch, and end with a sore spot on your cheek. It fills you up, slowly seeps into the

parts of you that make you whole. It confuses your senses and makes you doubt everything. That kind of pain is cruel, and spiteful. It

feeds you pieces of hope-just enough so that you can go on. Just enough to make you think, hey, maybe there really is a light at the end

of the tunnel. And then, it snatches it away, leaving you more empty than you were before. So don't tell me that all pain's the same."

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9 months before...

I wake up to crying. Simon's wails have almost become an alarm clock for me. I prop myself up on my arms, and slowly rise off the bed.

I begin to walk down the hall, and feel the cold wood floor graze my feet. I rub the crust out of my eyes, and turn the corner to Simon's

room. When I'm in front of his room, I brace myself.

The knob is cold, and I unintentionally shock myself. Im thankful for the jolt and start to fully awaken myself. I walk into the room, and

smell a mixture of lavender and sweat. The lavender, is from the incense I use to help Simon fall asleep, and the sweat's a product of a

nightmare he probably had. I look out his window, and see that the rest of the world's still sound asleep. The sky is a dark blue, and it

can't be more 5:00. I quickly walk to his bed, and sit down. I cradle his head in my arms, and gently wake him up.

"Si, come on, get up buddy ." I whisper calmly. He opens his eyes in sheer terror. He begins to thrash and kick, and I start to rock him

back and forth slowly. I wait for him to calm down.

"Mare, I saw it again. It-i-i-t-it was bright and cold, and-"

"I know. But it's just a dream, remember? I'm right here. If anything tried to hurt you, I'd beat the shit out of it." I say smiling. He

looks up at me with those big brown eyes. His pupils are huge.

"I know. It's us against the world, right?" He says smiling back.

"Exactly." I say, before smoothing out the hair that was sticking to him. I kiss his forehead lightly.

"Now, go get ready for school, I'll see you downstairs." I tell him before walking out his room, and into mine.

I enter my room, and immediately feel the urge to lie back down, but I'm already awake. My hell begins.

I get up a few minutes later and go to my closet. The light doesn't work, and I aimlessly search through it. I know what I'm looking for. I

drop countless tops on the floor, butI finally find my favorite shirt. I leave the shirts on the floor and grab a pair of black pants under

my bed. My room's a mess. I always mean to clean it, but I have a penchant for waiting putting things off, and being unreliable. But not

when it comes to my brother. I have to be his rock; I have to be grounded. I shake the thought out of my head, and start to do my

makeup. This is always the worst part of the morning for me, because I have to see all my imperfections. Yeah, I have physical ones, but

I mean my inner blemishes. My sadness finds a way to hollow out my eyes, and make them look dull and lifeless. I commands my

cheeks to look thin, and it forces my hair to cover my face like a curtain. However, I'm skilled in the art of deception, and put on a air-

tight mask. I douse myself in a flammable lie. I expertly apply just the right amount of blush, and mascara, and eyeliner to my face to

make myself seem like the girl I'll never be. I look in the mirror and see how I now look so bright and vibrant. I tell my mind that I'm

happy, and it spreads the joke to the rest of my gullible body. But my heart scoffs. She used to be in love with my mind. They were a

single body, until she found out that he had been cheating on her with Hope. Hope had ruined everything. Now my heart hangs around

Doubt, Annoyance, and Anger. They're a dangerous crowd, but she told me that she likes the thrill she gets when she's with them, and

to be honest, so do I. My mind is a fool for being with hope. But sometimes, my heart and mind will see each other, and the two will

remember how they used to be. How wonderful they were together. My mind remembers when my heart used to beat so fast she

seemed as if she was going to leap out of my chest. And my heart remembers my minds thoughts. On, the thoughts were the best part.

Pure, innocent, bliss. But they go their own ways now. Stopping to nod and wave to each other before going back to their crowds.

Ugh why do I think like this? Why can't I think about the new frozen-yogurt store that opened up in town? Or the American History

test that I'm inevitably going to fail today? I'm just sick of these weird cryptic thoughts that I always have. But solitude breeds

convoluted beings. So I just sat in my rooms for an hours, and questioned the same thing I'd always questioned. The only question that

mattered.