Each day passes me by without hope of recovery. My wounds -- physical and mental -- will never heal fully. He took so much from me, and I don’t even know why he chose me. I’ve asked myself this question so many times before now it’s almost old; why me? Why pitiful, ordinary Emily Weir?

Let me take you back to that day when everything went completely wrong, and my world was spun in a 270º turn. Welcome to West E. Junior High, where high-school students and middle-school students mingle in the worst possible way, causing a hellish, freshman and six-let graveyard full of peers some thought they knew.

Sitting across the room from me in eighth-grade science was Greg Charlestor, the school’s ignored, dorky, DnD whack-job. Ask him any question (like anyone would do that, though), and he would tell you the right answer, if he didn’t loath you enough to ignore you. Most got that treatment, even if you went out of your way to be nice to him, whom few did anymore, except some six-lets.

One Monday in science, while I was talking to Lizzy about Jacob Red, he came over and stood right in front of me, just staring right at me. I could smell that acrid smell of smoke and unwashed hair and clothes that usually emanated from him.

“Hey! Yo, ‘lestor! Get lost, freak!” Lizzy said with a sneer.

He just stood there staring at me, as if there was anything interesting about me, which there isn’t. Across the room, Jacob looked over and saw Greg just standing the looking at me. The smile that he had been wearing while talking to his friend Sam Gable dropped off his face, and he quickly excused himself from Sam. He walked over to us, all six feet of him.

“What are you, some kind of pervert? Get lost, Charlestor, and don’t ever let me see you bothering anybody again, you hear?”

Greg turned around slowly and shuffled off, looking over his shoulder every few steps.

“What a creep!” Lizzy said.

Jacob looked at me. “You all right?” he said in his light voice.

I looked up into his deep green eyes, perfect face, and auburn hair and nodded. Who could disagree with a face like that?

“Good” he said and smiled, walking back to Sam laughing.

I stood there, thinking about how he doesn’t deserve a girl like me; gray eyes, black hair worn loose, and plain old clothing. Who would like me in the least?

I remember that night clearly; I had dyed my hair blue, and my mom had grounded me for a month for it. I had just wanted to stand out a little, that’s all. That’s the last time I saw my mom before it all started, because she had to leave for Minnesota the next morning.