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I make sure that every step is quiet as they make contact with tiles leading to the back door. I reach out, touching the door knob lightly with the tips of my fingers. I am numb, I don't want to feel the sadness of leaving my childhood behind, I did enough of that the past few weeks.

I wrap my fingers tightly around the door knob, make a firm twist and open the door slowly trying to prevent the small but long squeak it always makes. I slip out, already feeling the cold spread on my face.

I walk, leaving the small imprints of my feet in the snow, quickly masked by the foot prints that were already there. I walk toward the forest and vanquish between the trees, as I always do.

I can't help but feel a sense of loss by every step I take, going further away from the people that decided I was just body parts.

I feel the tiny impact of the snowflakes as they land on my nose and smile slightly when they melt after meeting the warmth of my skin. I keep going over my plan, making sure I don't miss the tiniest details as they are important, I have had about two months to prepare which more than most unwinds.

I look up to see the eeri sillouette of the skeletal branches against the silvery light of the moon, swaying to the gentle beat of the wind.

"I am just a mixture of their genetics of which they where ashamed to have." It's a sad thought, but it's is also the truth which is what leaves the pain dwelling within my chest. "I honestly meant nothing to them." I feel a tear trickle down the soft curve of my cheek and wipe it away forcing myself to believe it was never there, I am certainly not weak enough to cry again.

I take a deep sigh and bring down my head, so it is situated as it was before. "It's wrong, all of it. What gives them the power to think they can take me apart? Society." I remind myself. "It just makes me angry, to think it's okay, to encourage it. All those ads and commercials stating the false." But I know what actually makes me angry, it's that I didn't realize its cruelness until I experinced it for myself.

I remember, last year a boy named Ian was unwound, my teacher just said in her shrill voice "Ian won't be attending this school anymore." but everybody knew what had actually happened, he was just another unwind forgotten about in a week. I find myself thinking of him though, wondering if he ever thought that his friends missed him. They most likely forgot about him too, everyone does. Including myself. I will be forgotten as well.

I take notice to the wind soothingly whispering its way past me with light pressure, almost in a comforting way.

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