April 2nd, 2014. 9:21 PM.

She’s flipping through pages and pages of homework that will never get done. The teachers never check it anyways.

School, for her, was effortless. Everything, as a matter of fact, was effortless. Done to a perfection.

She was. The Valedictorian. The 4.0. The Varsity. The Perfect Musician.

A piece of near perfection on the outside with nothing on the inside.

She flips through the pages more frantically, trying to find a hint of personality, a mark, anything except for the starch white pages new enough to make a papercut.

She finds it on the last page. An inconspicuous umbrella with initials under it that reminds her of things long past.

She takes out the page with trembling fingers, and stares at it long and hard. Little by little, she could feel her heart thumping back to life. She could feel the cold thaw bit by bit. And she could feel her heart cracking again. Because the ice was the only thing holding it together.

And then she takes out a lighter. Without hesitation, she sets the parchment ablaze, and watches as the page curls from heat. Inch by inch, the paper is consumed by flame, and inch by inch, her heart stops again. She looks at the paper in her hands with a morbid fascination. The flames are her fingertips now, and yet she does nothing. The heat contrasts nicely with the chill in her hea