It had been six months since we last saw our parents. My sister Dery and I had taken up residence in a friend of our parents' house. Oddly enough this friend had been the same person who ha had that worried expression on her face. She was also one of us, she and her son. When I say one of us, I mean an orphan,

An orphan of circumstance and consequence.

We were orphaned by the very system which was put in place to protect us and keep order. But I guess order comes at the cost of human life. Circumstance took our parents and husbands, our mothers and fathers, our neighbors and community leaders. He took them and knocked us to the gravel. All the while consequence took his iron clad boot and smashed our faces into the earth. We were cut but we didn't do a thing about it, couldn't.

Four people had died that day and not in the comfort of their own homes surrounded by family. No, they died publicly; they died humiliated in their last moments all for the sake of a damned demonstration in the name f order and unfounded peace.

For six months I've had to deal with this knowledge. I can't talk to my sister because she's just to young, there's no doubt in my mind that she understands but but I refuse to let her sink down with me into this pit of unknowledgeable rage, I could talk with the widow but she has too much on her plate and it would be selfish.

No, I would have to find an outlet myself.

Four people had died that day. I kept going back to it, a widow and a fatherless child. My sister and I parentless, as for the fourth person wouldn't know. But there is no doubt someone is feeling it right now, the grief, the anger, nothing but these two emotions.

Funny thing, no one talks of it these days . Things carry on like before. There is no more rebellion. It stopped the day after the murders occurred. Because that's what they were. Murders.

I pulled myself out of the bed, it's been happening every morning, I sink deeper and deeper, I can't seem to forget but would forgetting really help.

I sighed then walked to the dresser Dery and I shared. She wasn't in the room, probably playing with Horu the widows son. I shrugged then fumbled through the drawers finding a black t shirt and black tight fitted jeans. After getting dressed I pulled on my black combat boots which were courtesy of dad on my eighteenth birthday.

I walked to the mirror and took in my appearance. I grabbed my eyeliner and added a good amount on my upper and lower lids completing the look. I pulled my jet black hair down coming it into neat waves. When I took it all in I was proud. I could have had a date with the angel of death himself. I grabbed my leather jacket and headed down the stairs, it would be cool were I was going.

When I reached the lower level of the house I passed by Horu and Dery who were engrossed on some leather book on the floor of the living room. I nodded at them both then headed straight for the kitchen door. I was stopped by an inquiring voice.

"You look like the grim reaper." The voice stated.

I heard the flip of a newspaper and I smirked to myself.

"That's the idea I called back as I stepped into the kitchen/ dining room. There was still breakfast on the table but Ms. Cassie was at the head of it clipping coupons.

I hope you're not going fishing for souls …or anything for that matter. She looked at me over a Clover's Market paper.

If you call sitting in a park,hunting for souls then yes, I am." She eyed me wearily.

"Is that all you're doing?" She asked.

"On my life." She stopped and looked at me, silently nodding. I nodded back then headed for the door but what she didn't see was me picking up a back bag full of red spray paint.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her.