March 15th 2064

Leona Taylor, Aged 22.

There it was, for once in her life, a lifeline. A light in the bleak darkness.

And it came in the form of a 22 year old British man with fluffy brownish blonde hair Leona loved running her fingers through.

His names was James, and Leona loved him.

He made her promise to stop hurting herself, and she did. She stopped after nearly ten years of hurt.

She refused to go speak to her old family. She didn't want to see them.

It hurt to much. It would always hurt to much. Always.

They were engaged, they were going to get married the following fall in the next year, after graduation.

She was happy. Nessa was nearly 6, and the little girl was running around her mother's apartment like a madwoman, messing about with makeup and other such things.