It's a funny thing really, the tattoo that marks my skin. Everybody else's tattoos are a picture that brings joy to all parties, but not mine. I honestly can't tell if it's the picture or the fact that I have someone who is meant to care bout me unconditionally and vice versa. The tattoo on my right shoulder was of a phoenix, something that signified resurection and life after death. When I die, which I pray will be soon, I would like my terrible life to be over. And really, someone who is supposed to care about me no matter what? Isnt that also the job of a parent? If neither of my parents care for me, why would some rando? Its all a bunch of B.S. which is why I always keep it covered. Then again it was only a matter of time before I saw her walking down the street. How do I know it was her, you may ask, she was in a tank top, the bane of my existence. She was flaunting the phoenix while all I wanted to happen was for it to disappear, and yet, for some reason, all I wanted to do now was talk to the girl. In that instant all my previous feelings went out the window. She soon stopped at a cross walk, this may have been my only chance. Being too deep in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that she was referring closer, so close that she bumped straight into me. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed, "I'm so sorry! My names Ember," "Uh" I hesitated, "Asheley,"