The haphazardly hung bulb flickered in the dimly lit room- it started off slow and as time passed, the glimmering picked up pace. The girl hunched over the old, wooden desk with tears trickling down her small face. They splashed on the yellowed scroll of paper, leaving tiny, temporary marks. Her stoic expression gave off the impression that she was void of any emotion whatsoever. At this point, she has the strength to endure anything that came her way. It wasn’t the depression or pain that induced her tears- it was the pure shock. Her sobs grew louder and with each cry, she was an inch closer to the floor. “It…wasn’t….me.” she gasped in between fits. She ran the blade over her bare arm, staining her skin with red drops.

The slip of paper fluttered in the warm summer arm and unexpectedly fell onto the hard, marble floor. The little printed letters formed the sentence,“Trial on 9/21/15.”