I remember very vividly every detail of the night of the invasion. I remember sitting there in my room two days after Christmas with my new guitar, music sheets with doodles on them, making it obvious I had musician's block. Suddenly I felt the air thicken, the tension had risen to an unbearable point. The television was turned up in the living room, the sirens went off, an "oh my God" had rang through the house as my mother ran into my baby sister's room. It was a sequence of events that as just a high schooler I never want to experience again.

Heartless had appeared in my room, blocking my only quick escape, my only ticket to life. I dropped my jaw along with my guitar, the vibrations from each string was heard. The Heartless stopped in their tracks strangely enough, then it clicked. I picked up my guitar once again, dropping it in a careless manner and like I had predicted, the Heartless wouldn't budge for a good three or four seconds. I began to strum in a panic, not playing anything specific, and not really caring if it was horrendously out of tune.

I would strum and kick and strum again, trying to make my way out of the house to a safer place. Mom, dad, and my baby sister weren't inside, so I had assumed they already ran for it. Most would think "gee, thanks for not staying and waiting for me, just proves who's your favorite" but as long as my sister got away, that's all that mattered to me. Just as I had reached for the door knob, every window in the house shattered into more pieces than there were numbers in the universe. My guitar and I hit the floor, right then knowing what caused them to cave in. The pressure was building quickly, making my ears feel as though water was trapped inside my head.

I finally managed to crack the door just enough for me to slip through. I turned around to make a run for it, guitar in hand, ready to fight, but as soon as I noticed what was ahead of me, my heart had fallen, and fallen hard. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, there was nothing I could do. Every building in my town had disappeared. The sky was purple, fading into black as the sky elevated. I could see nothing but bodies piled on top of bodies. Heartless were eating away at every other individual, dragging them into their own individual piles by their hair. After many times of trying to make my heart beat again, my eyes shifted to my feet. I let out an ear shattering scream of fear, fear no kid, or no man should ever experience. My mom and dad were lifeless on the depleting earth, kind of cuddled up, like they were trying to protect something, or someone. I saw my sister in the middle. She died with her eyes open, eyes overcome with fear. The next thing I knew, I was grabbed by some sort of snake or tentacle and thrown to the ground next to my parents, breaking and shattering bones that weren't supposed to be broken. That was it. I knew I was approaching death.

I blacked out for a few minutes according to the recruits who saved me. I vaguely remember opening my eyes, feeling as lifeless as the graveyard I lay in. There stood an intimidating guy with a scar and eye patch and some doofus with hair brighter red than any I had ever seen. I had passed out again when I thought they were going to kill me.

I might be the person that is always afraid to go out and fight, you might think I'm gay, you might think I'm lazy, you might think I'm a five year old. Before you judge me by my appearance, you should get my story first. Try to witness everyone in your town, including your family, die and be dragged around on the sidewalks right before your eyes. I have my share of broken bones and scars to prove that I am more than I appear to be.