Hera Lianne, the high school's "Punk" chick, sat in the back corner of the library, her Aqua blue hair draped over one shoulder, where she could never be seen. She hated the fact that everyone thought she was a punk. She had waist-long, straight hair, dyed a light, Aqua blue colour, she had a silver nose piercing, and tattoos covered her arms. A sign of her rebellion. She thought she was different, she had character, everyone else though she was a Punk or Gothic. She hated it.

The bell for the end of the day, at NYU, rang. She got up, flashed an arrogant smile at the librarian, Ms. Green, pushed the doors open and - stopped. There was a note on the floor, a letter per say. The letter was addressed to H. L., her initials. She picked the envelope up and put in in her back pocket.

Once at home, Hera sat in her living room, which was a warm shade of grey, and opened the letter. The words were all written in spidery, cursive, hand-writing, and instantly, she didn't know who wrote it, yet the writing was slightly, strangely, familiar. As she read the letter, her heart stopped: This isn't real. They ask you questions. You break under pressure. You start on drugs. You find that you can't stop. Your life is bleeding a way, slowly, but you don't know it. You think no one cares, but still, if no one cares about you, do you even exist at all? You keep your head up high, like it doesn't bother you. The names, the pictures, the words. you pretend you're all right, like no one notices. After all, they're just words. I read people, like you read a book. I know a broken person when I see one, Heralyn Rose Lianne. Stop pretending. Someday it will all make perfect sense, but for now, laugh at all confusion, smile through the tears, and keep reminding yourself: everything happens for a reason. you may not know who wrote you this letter, but, you have my word, we've met. I can't tell you who I am yet, but, for now, this will do: Seventh Grade- Your Savior- your speech. Hera squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to cry. Seventh grade, she remembered it broght as day, the worst day of her life. She remembered the words, the speech, the humiliation, the encouragement.

(Exerpt, seventh grade)(Hera's POV)

The leadership club comes into our class and asks for spirit day ideas. Lucy Chanel, the most popular girl in school, suggests Geek Day. God, I hate her. I have braces on my teeth and I have glasses on too. I'm not exactly pretty, but I could make a pass. I have long, dark brown, straight hair, and eyes the colour of the sky. My best friend, Janus Wreith, stand up on her desk. Is she offering an idea? No, why didn't she just raise her hand? Or even shout it out like most people do?

"I like that one," she says in a cheerful voice. I feel betrayed, did she just agreed with Lucy Chanel?! "I think that we should all give Hera some credit there, right? She doesn't even need to dress up." She smiled sweetly at me. Even though I just got back from suspension- for kicking the principal 'cause he called me a bitch- and despite the pain that shot through my broken leg when I got up, I walked over to Janus, and punched her in the nose. The whole class was shocked.

Tonight there is a party going on at Reggie Roberts place, one I am actually invited to. everyone was going, so I bought: why not?

At the party, the crowd is intimidating. About a half hour later, my boyfriend, Scott Millers, is on stage, completely sober, saying a speech. He told me he was going to say a few things, "of thanks" apparently. But once he got up there, he started to talk, about how we "slept together". I was disgusted, now finding about what rumours everyone has been talking about, I turned on my crutches and left the party, as quick as possible.

I'm about five feet from the gates, and suddenly a man is standing in front of me, blocking my way- not really a man, maybe three months- a year older than me. He has tumbling taven black hair and molten gold eyes. He is tall, his gold eyes burning intensely. When he doesn't say anything, I ask politely "excuse me, I'm trying to leave, do you mind moving so I can get past you?" He shakes his head.

"Come with me, I need to talk to you." His gold eyes pleaded with her

"I don't trust strangers," I swallow, this I bad, really bad. "I want to go home, please."

"Why, so you can cry, be weak? So you can let his words hurt you? So you can do something insane? Cut yourself, maybe? Even, kill yourself? I don't think so."I'm to surprised, by how straightforward he is, to move.

"fine. You got five minutes. Talk." My tone is final- well... As final as I can get it, with the terror I'm feeling right now.

"OK, first of all, why did you run out of there? You kicked the principal when he called you a bitch. You punched you "best friend" when she told the class that you were a geek and even looked the part. Why run and cry when your boyfriend says you "slept" together? Anyone who knows you... Knows you and cares about you, would ever- could ever- believe that. They would know you're not that shallow." Earlier his eyes were intense, but now they were filled with kindness.

"Maybe 'cause I'm done. Tired of trusting shallow, backstabbing, assholes with my life." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice now. I have lost my calm. I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated "why am I telling you- you a stranger- all of this?!"

"Maybe, 'cause you don't trust anyone?" He suggests helpfully, but it just angers me more.

"It was a rhetorical question! And that's just it, I trust everyone, 'give them all a chance', you know?" My eyes sting as i choke on my words.

"you can't cry, or run, or show them you're weak, or that's what they'll believe. Or they never will see how you feel." Something about his words move me. shocked, I run for the second time tonight, this time, the opposite direction.

(Jason's POV)

I whatch as Heralyn runs back into the party, her blue hair blowing in the wind. She is beautiful. It is so frustrating that I can't tell her. But, if I want things to go back to normal- which I do- then I have to take this slowly. God, I hate the memories, myself, getting pulled under, seeing the tears on Heralyn's face, his girlfriend being tied up, unable to help. And now I hate the look in her eyes when she sees me; recognition , with out familiarity or was a vacation to Hawaii. Actually it was a school field trip. We were playing truth or dare with the college kids down by the beach. It was midnight when I got my turn. I was dared to go swimming in the ocean, so I thought: how hard can this be? Halfway out to the centre of the ocean, something caught at my leg. I thrashed against whatever it was that was restraining me, but it was useless. I was out of the water long enough to see that the college kids had my girlfriend, Heralyn Rose Lianne, tied up. Tears streaked her face. That was it, I had been pulled under again. The water started turning red as a bang went off. The person who was holding me was shot. I was pulled onto an island, where , for six months straight, my rescuers taught me to defend my self. Thats when I started my search.

(hera's POV)

i ran back to the party as fast as I could. No one is on stage, but everyone is still gathered there. I walk up the steps to the stage and cross to the microphone. No ones sees me. Then I began to speak:

excuse me! I don't want you to talk to me because you're "bored", I'm not here to entertain you. Don't come to me only when you need a "favor", I don't like being used. Anyone can make you smile, many can make you cry, but it takes one very special person to make you smile with tears in your eyes. Why haven't i experienced this? Maybe it's because I trust people too much? Because I give everyone a chance? What am I saying? "Maybe" is just an excuse, you can't have a maybe. It's alway either aw yes or a no, you can't run from your choices. You're going to have to decide sometime. Let your yes be Yes and your no be No. "Yes" it is because I trust people. "Yes" it is because I give everyone a chance. But you wanna know what angers me the most, more than not being able to trust the ones I love? Nobody being able to see when someone is broken in side. But worst of all, is my parents saying "sticks and stone may break your bones but word will never hurt you" because that saying is bullshit. Capital B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T. Words have the most power. Words control us. Words are cruel, they have the power to strip you down and leave you standing naked before the world, with all your secrets spilled. Every insult, more pain, every compliment, more smiles. We all wish that the good outweighed the bad, but that is a mere expression. In reality, the bad always outweighs the good. The bad always wins...-and it hurts. From my experience, for every compliment you get a day, you get two additional insults, at full impact. Everyone has scars, maybe not physical, but mental and emotional. Some of us have physical scars, some of those we've caused ourselves, as distractions. Ironic, physical pain in exchange for emotional or mental pain. But those of us who do that, above all else, should know this: it doesnt erase the pain, it creates more. But there is still a difference; some physical scars heal, fewer emotional ones do. But absolutely no mental ones do, because memories don't. If you cut your arms or harm yourself in anyway, the scars may heal, but the memories remain. The memories bring back pain. The memories of WHY bring back even more pain. Remember that, next time you pick on someone who is crying, they could easily be mourning a lost lover, parent, family member, friend even. Or when you pick on a girl with out hair, she is probably going through Chemo for cancer. Or the boy who is overweight and is probably dealing with with a deadly eating disorder and can die at any moment of the day. Remember this speech, cause it may be the last one you h ear.

(End of excerpt, seventh grade)

"Hera?" A girl with blonde hair was standing in front of her, in the small living room of the apartment they shared, snapping Heralyn out of her reverie.

"What? Sorry." She apologized

"what's that, can I see?" She asked, reaching for the paper in Hera's hands.

"No!" She snapped at her sister "sorry, Cindy, it's just...personal." She amended

"OK, just go to bed it's three in the morning. And clearly, you need sleep."

"What?! Did you just say...3:00 AM?!" She asked, snapping toattention like a military soldier on duty.

Cindylaughed "Goodnight Hera." She got up and left.

Readers~

OK, so I don't know about this one. I think there was a lot of grammar mistakes, sorry, and I think it was kinda short, sorry. Let me know what you guys think. I know it wasn't great, but I'm expecting at least a few good reports in there. So... Recap: Jason is the man who stopped Heralyn at the party and the one who wrote the letter. Jason is Heralyn's Ex-boyfriend who "died" during the summer on their vacation to Hawaii, right Before grade seven. She was at a party with Jason and they played truth or dare, jason had to go swimming in the middle of the ocean at midnight, and Hera got tied up because the college kids had this planned. On his way out there, Jason got dragged under and was has asummed to be dead. Really what happened: Jason was pulled under and the guy who had hold of him was shot. It would be a hard experience for Hera if she found out Jason was alive and she had a different boyfriend, so he is taking it slow. When Hera moved from California to New York, he had to find her before he could tell her, which took years. Hera still doesnt recognize him, it's been a while, she wouldn't believe him. He has to get on her good side first.

will Jason be able to make the transition from stranger to at least friends? Or will he spill it all before the time is right?

im working on chapter TWO but I had major writers block tonight- more like writers run into a brick wall- and I couldn't write more than this. This is my first book, I have ever wrote.

if you were wondering why there is no DISCLAIMER, it is because I actually do own this book, the plot, and the characters

REVIEW!

~Storms&Shadows