DO NOT SKIP OVER THE AUTHOR'S NOTE DAMMIT.

It's at the bottom of the page. Thank you.


"Hi-ya!"

The sound reverberated throughout the empty gym, making it feel even emptier. Lonelier. Her hand hit the hard stone.

Nobody in their right mind would get up at six-thirty on a Tuesday to practice karate.

Kira Saunders was not in her right mind.

"Hi-ya!" This was good. She needed this. Her hand came down on the cold, unyielding stone again. It still didn't budge.

"Hiii-ya!"

She chopped at the stone so harshly that the impact sent a tingle from her pinky up her right arm. It still didn't break.

She slid down to rest her forehead against the cold, unwieldy chunk of concrete.

Why wouldn't it break?


In another building, in another town, in another life, a girl shrieked.

"Damn you," she hissed.

She seized the gold heart-shaped locket around her neck and yanked. One vigorous twist and the dainty gold chain broke.

The trinket in her right palm fell open. In the left half was a picture of a man; in the right, a woman. Both faces beamed up at her.

She hated their smiles. They had no right to be happy.

She hurled the locket across the bare room at the wall as hard as she could. It fell, open, to the floor.

The faces, frozen, smiled up at the ceiling, mocking her.

She flopped down, pressing herself against the carpet as hard as she could for the last time.

Why wouldn't it break?


In a mansion full of beautiful things, dozens of empty rooms were about to be treated to what sounded like a violent tap dance.

What it really was was Felicity.

She dumped her ballet bag on the polished marble floor, blocking the reflection of the chandelier above. She crumpled up the leotard and chucked it at an exquisite black-and-white family portrait. Underneath was a little plate embossed with the words "The Westberger Family".

She roughly grabbed her ballet slippers. She threw them down to the floor, scooped them back up, and did it again. And again. She pulled at the ribbons. Seizing her nearby tap shoes, she began to whack hysterically at her slippers.

Why wouldn't they break?


a word from the author.

So this is something I started more than a year ago and I finally decided to share it. Not really sure where it's going, or even if it's going anywhere at all. This is just a brief teaser. It'll be summer soon so I figured I might as well give writing a go, and beyond that...it's up to what y'all think. DO NOT expect any updates until after finals. :'(

Chapter titles are from Leaves of Grass, which god, I wish were mine, but are Whitman's.

EDIT/ Fixed those weird POVs. I LOVE reviews. -hint, hint-