I walked along the winding dirt road that went through the forest. I had been down this path many times before. Before, I had never been on the other side, the side where Rosestone was. Now, Rosestone was where I started from.

The leaves on the trees had already turned brown and were crumpling to the ground. It was a sure sign that winter was in the near horizon. Soon it would turn cold and snow would cover the earth. Everything would die, only to come back to life again in the spring.

I guess that was the funny thing about humans. We didn't die and then come back to life. When we die, we remain dead. We don't wake up once a season is over. Once we're gone, we stay gone. It's sad, really. Really sad.

When my parents first died, I couldn't believe it. My world was crashing down. My perfect life, that I had worked so hard to build up, crumbled in front of me, breaking into a million tiny pieces that would never, ever be put back again.

It was only about a month ago. It was September. We had won our homecoming football game at Kennedy High, the school I had attended before Rosestone. I was head-cheerleader. The captain. The one on top. The one calling the shots.

I had everything. I was the most popular girl in the school. Everyone wanted to be friends with me. I was a straight-A student, top of the class. I was student body president in our student government and I was also president of the National Honors Society. I had also been one of the top vocalist performers in our district. I had everything.

I had a boyfriend, Tyler. He was the love of my life. He was the star quarterback of the varsity football team and my high school sweetheart. We had been dating ever since freshman year. Naturally, it was obvious that we would be a couple: we were both the most attractive and popular people in our school.

When I walked down the hallways at school, people would call my name out to say hello. Girls would come up to me and compliment me for my style. Boys would shamelessly flirt with me. Even teachers would stop me in the halls to ask me how I was doing and how school was working out for me. I was loved by everyone. I had everything.

The homecoming game was against one of our biggest rivals: Mason Academy, an all-boys' private school. They had a well-trained team and we never were able to beat them. Until this homecoming. We won our first game against Mason and we were ecstatic.

So in addition to having the homecoming dance, I decided we needed to have a celebration for our great win that put us in the lead in the regional games. I reserved a ballroom in the Crowne Plaza and planned for a fancy dinner for the varsity football team and cheerleaders. Everyone was looking forward to it. We even got the yearbook committee to come and take pictures for us.

That night, it rained. Hard. The news put out a flash flood warning, saying not to go outside because the river was threatening to flow over. It was dangerous conditions to drive in. The wind was blowing 30 mph. There was lightening and thunder. The rain was falling in sheets.

But I couldn't cancel the dinner. It was too important to me. I just couldn't let my classmates down, especially when they were so eager to celebrate our great success. So the show went on. We had the dinner. But as I was setting up the room with a few girls from the cheerleading squad, I noticed something was missing: I had forgotten the projector for the slideshow I had made at home.

I called my parents, urgently telling them to bring the projector over to the hotel with them. They told me they couldn't, that they had to stay indoors. The conditions outside were too dangerous for driving. They told me to make do without it.

Now this just pissed me off. They expected me to just forget about all my hardwork and make do without the projector? The slideshow was what would make the night special. I needed the projector.

So I yelled at them. I told them that I had done so much to make them proud and they couldn't even drive the projector over for me?

Yes, I was dramatic. I was so dramatic.

And when they still wouldn't listen, I told them they were out to get me. I told them that they just didn't want me to be happy. I told them that they didn't care. I told them I hated them.

And that was the last thing I said to them.

"I hate you!" I had shouted.

And then they were gone.

They had driven out into the storm to get me my projector. But they were right. The roads were too dangerous to drive on. I should have cancelled the event. No one was going to be able to make it anyway. But I was stubborn and proud. I wouldn't admit that my event was a failure. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

And then, as I was fuming about my parents to my friends, I got a phone call.

"Is this Renee Dubois?" a woman's voice had asked. She sounded hurried, frantic, perplexed.

"Yes, who is this?" I had snapped. I heard shouts in the background. People were yelling. What were they saying?

"This is Laura calling from Kennedy Hospital. You're par--" she began and then I had heard a voice in the background clearly say,

"It's no use. They're dead."

And my world fell apart.

It was amazing how in just a month, so much had changed. I had changed.

I was no longer that happy, up-beat girl that everyone wanted to be friends with. For the two weeks I had attended Kennedy after what happened, I completely changed. I drew away from people, not talking, not listening. I showed up to class, for the sake of going to class, but sat in the back, not listening, not speaking. I walked quietly through the halls, drawn into myself. I sat alone at lunch, I was kicked off the cheerleading squad for missing practice so much.

And Tyler had broken up with me.

I had called him after the funeral. He came over and listened to me cry and sob and tell him what happened. Then he told me I needed to get my mind off of things. He took me to a wild college party a few days afterwards. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know why I agreed to go. I just wanted to get my mind off of things.

So I agreed to go. There was alcohol at the party. A lot of it. And Tyler kept encouraging me to drink. He said it would make me feel numb to the pain; he said it would help me forget. But it didn't.

He led me up to an empty room. By that time, I was extremely drunk. I was blubbering and crying. The alcohol didn't help me forget. In fact, it made the pain of what had happened to me increase ten-fold. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to leave.

But Tyler wouldn't hear it. He took advantage of me in my drunken depression and had sex with me. He told me I never put out. He convinced me that this would help ease the pain. And in my confusion, I complied. And it was the worst mistake I had ever made.

After that night, I sank into an even greater depression. Tyler said I wasn't good in bed at all and that I was a sloppy drunk. So he broke up with me and told the school my horrible story. He had told me the truth, though. He had told me he didn't want to deal with me. Not when I was 'no fun'.

While my life twisted into a downward spiral, the case of who would have custody of Mike and I was closed. The judge decided that we would live with my father's brother and his wife--my aunt and uncle--because they lived closest to us.

The move and transfer was quick and neat. By the beginning of October, we were moved in with my aunt and uncle and registered as students in Rosestone.

And now here I was. It was almost November now. About a month and a half ago my life had turned to hell. And still, I hadn't managed to bring myself up on my feet.

I blamed myself. It was me. I was the one that killed them. I was stupid and careless and stubborn. I had no idea what I had and now I lost it all.

And I was alone. And it hurt so bad.

I wouldn't relive what happened. I was afraid people would laugh at me like they had before. Either that, or they would feel sorry for me. I didn't want anyone's pity. So I stayed away. I kept myself away from people. I kept to myself. I drew myself so far in, that I couldn't recognize the girl that looked back at me when I gazed at myself in the mirror. I had changed so much and now there was no going back.

I emerged from the dark woods, to the other side. In front of me stood a small field. There was a sign on the stone building that read: Saint Mary's Cemetery. A little distance away from the trees, were neat rows of weathered stones, sticking vertically out of the green, green grass. I walked up to these stones now.

Row 4. Stones 5 and 6.

There they were.

                                                                  RIP

                                            Gregory and Karmen Dubois

                                             1965-2011 and 1967-2011

                               "And Death shall be no more" -John Donne

"And Death shall be no more," I whispered, reading the quotation on the tombstone.

It was a nice quote. It was from one of my mother's favorites poems by John Donne. The poem talked about death and how we shouldn't be afraid of it. It said that in the end, when we wake up on the other side; there will be no death. So we will essentially have overcome death. In the end, we'll win. And death will be no more.

I sat down in front of the grave, pulling the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands.

"Hey Mom and Dad. I tried singing again today. It didn't work out so well..." I started talking. And I began re-telling the events of the day.

Talking to my dead parents. It's all I could do to keep myself sane, to keep myself from losing what I had. I couldn't forget them, even though I wanted to so badly. I had to hold onto the pain. I deserved it. It was my fault they were gone.

All my fault.

And I was so, so sorry.

_______________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Jeez. I realize how depressing this story is. Now you know the exact details of what happened to her. You now know exactly why she's so sad now and so unwilling to let anyone in.

Let me know how you like the story so far!

And if you get a chance, check out my Trinity High story!! It's about witches!

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