Her feet, her tanned, delicate, painfully cut up feet, walked through the cold crisp creek mechanically as she stared ahead into the distance. Despite the breathtaking beauty of the practically untouched Oregon backwoods surrounding her, she just kept blankly starting ahead, at something far beyond the haze of the trees ahead. She stumbled on a loose rock and finally broke her dead gaze to look down and catch her footing. She noticed only momentarily the cool crimson colored water around her as she splashed water on her heels and legs to try and stop the bleeding. More attention would have been given on her fascinatingly blood stained legs if her focus hadn’t been stolen by something floating past her rather quickly. She found a spurt of energy from God knows where to leap forward to it, trying to catch the dark blue blob of fabric before the current took it away. She leaned down warily and picked it up; a hoody, a dark blue hoody with grey drawstrings and a hole in the right sleeve. She let herself slink down into the cold water as she held the hoody close to her. Her eyes closed and she tried to cry, but all that was left was an empty feeling, a hollow, lonely emptiness that hurt more than anything they could have done to her did. Yes, she was a survivor, but with nothing left to survive for. She looked around as the sun poked it’s first curious rays through the trees ahead, waking all the chattering and ignorantly cheerful birds all around her. She took a deep, painful breath. She was alive, but she had never felt more dead in her life.