The next day Ace walks down the stairs, no tears, no solemn aura, no happiness either. Her mother looks at her with puffy eyes, Ace just looks at her. No words, the house is filled with sickened silence, a distance between everyone. Either one not knowing how to bring their situation up, the silence crept longer than either expected.

Opening their mouth at the same time, saying the exact same thing, their faces did not show excitement but agreement with each other. " Let's Move..." As if they were expecting one another's actions, mom takes out a map and lays it out on the table. Looking down, their eyes came upon one place, in particular, a place where they were going to visit but didn't because of her father's job. Willowick a solemn place like where they live now but a place where no one knows them, where they could start over.

Hours later of small talk between the two, moving would be the best option. They were going to leave at the end of the month, so they were going to get a house and transfer school. Ace went back up to her room after their small talk was over and started to write a letter. A letter to Michel, about her love for him how she loved everything about him and their relationship, how she remembered his face, and how she wished he would still be alive if it wasn't for her. She would try to live on without any interference from anyone, but she wrote in tears how she wouldn't let their love be gone.

This letter she added pages and page to it that she wrote in that month the last time she would ever be in that house in that town and in that state. She folded the letter with a black rose with a black ribbon. Leaving it on his grave the last she was there, the day she left. No tears, no heartbreak she whispered,' I will always love you...' and walked away.

Driving away in the car with her mother, the stairs out the window and whispers, 'No tears, no interferes...' her mom looks at their, then looks away and nods to herself agreeing this is the best choice and hopefully she will have a new start.

The forest was ancient. The trees thick and old, roots that were twisted. It might once have been filled with birdsong and animals that roamed. But now it was ages past its former glory. Its canopy was so dense that you could only see the occasional streak of sunlight that rarely touched the forest floor. Even its thick vines were slowly taking away the last remnants of the temple that stood in the centre.

The street winds over the hill like a carelessly discarded belt, gray and cracked with age. On each side, the houses are separated by yards large enough to accommodate farm animals, but this is no rural district. The homes are many times larger than even the biggest of families might need, yet in each is mostly parents with one child. To each dwelling, there are more sports cars than people and kitchens that cost more than our homes just a block over.