My name is Aria Becour, and believe me when I tell you, what you think you know, your whole world, is just one big lie.
One year ago I was nothing more than an ordinary girl, in an ordinary apartment, with a very plain life.
Then it all. Went. Wrong.
I lost my older sister to a disease the doctors had never seen before, nevermind known how to treat. My mother fell into a deep depression and within a week of her favorite daughter's death, committed suicide. My father had died in an unidentified hit and run when I was 10 and both of my parents were the only child in their family. So that meant all I had were my grandparents. My mother was an orphan and was raised in group homes, so that just left my father's parents. However, there was a catch, they lived in London and had cut all ties with our family when my dad died. So I was alone. Single. Living in Oregon, and scraping by with my salary, enough to pay the bills and have very little money left afterwords. Most days I went hungry, in a month I lost 15 lbs even with the occasional meal. I, like my mother, fell into depression. I had horrific nightmares consistently, developed severe insomnia, and, essentially, my life turned into a living hell. I began to plot my own death in my freetime, and found release in cutting. It started with an attempt to take my life, but I weaseled out in the end, but still managed to nick my wrist. That began my new hobby. Some people may be disgusted with anyone who ever even thought to hurt themselves, but they are lucky in a way. They have never been so desparate to find something to dull the emotional trauma. But there are always those who understand. Who find comfort in cold metal like i did. Soon my arms were lined with them, as were my legs.
I felt so trapped then. I did the first thing I could. I grabbed my keys and ran out the door, shutting it behind me. Of cource when I got outside it was raining, it was Oregon in May, rain was very much expected. So I just ran. I ran until I was soaked and chilled to the bone and finally reached a very large area of field and some thinned woods. I kept jogging through though, until I stopped and gasped for air. That's when I first smelled it. The burnt smell wafted in on a cold breeze and made me pause to think for a moment. The rain had turned to a light mist, and the clouds had lightened up slightly. But why would there be a burning smell way out here? Someone's chimney. Then I remembered what causes a burning smell. Fire. And that's when I saw the massive streams of smoke in the sky, coming closer and closer towards me.