When Loni Stromme was released from the hospital, Marty Michaels, the Silent Menace had been dead for almost a week. He had killed her two best friends, and little Jenson, whom she had been babysitting. Before she finally worked the roped off her wrists, she had been raped, beaten, and left to wallow in her own bodily fluids for a whole weekend. The shovel she used to cleave his head from his torso had only just been used to dig the hole his victims had been buried. She'd endured multiple interrogations by the police, and worst of all, her parents. And the court ruled, finally, that she was not, in fact, the 6th Street Killer. When she was strong enough to go back to Junior High she was already a year behind everyone, but since her class had moved over to the Senior Secondary, she prayed making new friends might help clean the slate. Roger Morgan asked her out to the Fall Dance while she was in science class. She loved his smile, and his soft hands; not hard, not rough, smooth and warm. Safe. By Spring they were going steady and he was pressuring her for more, he didn't understand why she wouldn’t have sex with him. All that stuff was long ago. He never forced himself on her, but the guilt trips were heavy on her soul. He would push, apologize, pout, and try again. She broke up with him in March on his birthday. He told her he was sure she would give herself to him. As a present. He punched the wall beside her head, and she wet herself, and crumpled in a ball in the park. At school the snickers came fast. He’d told everyone that she came on to Marty Michaels. That she fucked Marty and liked it, and that was why her and Roger split up. The teachers didn't do anything, what could they do? so she stopped going to class. Perhaps a new town would help, but her Dad said he couldn't just up and leave his job, she had to make do. Her life, once bright and forever, was now loneliness, and the four walls of her room. The ads said 'It's Gets Better' but she couldn't see when... or how?