• Hollie's shaky, pale hand drew the Chinese symbol for Death, the ink smearing where her tears fell and blurred the smooth lines. As the complicated figure formed, uncertain on the paper, Hollie shook her head back and forth. Death wasn't quite the answer, but certainly how she felt. Her heart had been ripped out, cut to pieces, and left hopelessly. When she was on the very edge, the highest brink of the crumbling skyscraper that was death and life, her Superman had flown by and saved her. Even as she was a lifeless zombie, he saw the potential in her hollow eyes. He had taken his time to glue her broken heart back together just so he could throw it on the icy floor and watch it shatter to bits when he saw it convenient to leave. He left Hollie more dead than before, and now she was broken beyond repair. Death in life. But she would make this better, and she knew what to do. Holly's brow creased as the tears continued, smudging her mascara down her cheeks. She refused to stop here. She'd been repaired, but other people had been broken. Why not spend her time making it easier for other people? Even if it was hard for her, she knew the bitter burning inside her black heart was not meant for everyone. She tore the paper in half and for a moment, a flash of hatred and sadness and every other single mangled emotion she had felt in the past year--it was all there. She would fix this.