1 Nichole

The sound of a siren, signaling nuclear fallout, can be heard reverberating throughout a small bedroom, as a young teenager sleeps silently. The young female stirs at the sound, but overall, seems to lack any care for the sound.

After a few moments, Nichole slowly lifts her eyelids, revealing dark blue eyes, that, if one were to look into, they would see no greater comparison than the dark blue depths of the ocean. Stretching herself over the small bed, and leaving her grogginess behind in the process, Nichole finally decides that the sound is worth being acknowledged, noting the familiar ache in the process. She looks to her bedside, where a smartphone can be seen, being the origin of the obnoxious noise, she dismisses the alarm, seeing the time displayed as 4:32 a.m.

Quickly dressing herself in a sports bra and some gym shorts, she puts her long hair into a ponytail before exiting her apartment, looking at the sun that has yet to peak the horizon. Walking down the steps connecting her apartment to her neighbors, she sends a wave to their camera, knowing that it's on 24-7. She stops at the mailboxes, breathing in deeply, taking in the familair smell of early morning dew, mixing not-so-well with the trash of the dumpster not too far away.

Facing the sun, or where the sun will be in a couple hours, she starts with a light jog towards the end of the street, where the bus will pick her up later. Turning right, towards a set of train tracks barely visible in the distance, she starts her run. Passing by buildings she's seen everyday for the past 3 years, she losses herself in her thoughts, contemplating the constant ache she always seems to feel. She knows not its origins, knowing how healthy her body is, just that its always there.

Dismissing her thoughts, she stops at the train tracks, now no more than a few feet in front of her, and turns around, and jogs back to her street, before running back to the tracks again. This process repeats until the previously invisible sun is now showing itself on the horizon. Nichole stops at her street for the final time, facing the arc of orange light, she stares at it for a few more fleeting moments, basking in the warmth of the orange glow, before walking towards her apartment.

Silently entering the apartment, she makes her way to her small closet, grabbing a pair of clothes and her favorite hoodie. Exiting her room and making her way towards the bathroom, she doesn't forget to grab a towel, not trusting the one she knows is hanging in there already. Entering the bathroom, she take a look at the mirror, observing it.

The mirror reflects the image of a tall girl of around 6'0", wearing nothing but a sports bra and gym shorts. The girl is drenched in sweat, dripping down her abs and glistening off of her muscles, not the macho-man type of muscle, but the lean muscle that, with a hoodie, could be hidden well. Pale skin seems to glow in the light of the LED, giving off the feeling of a fragile porcelain doll, contradicting the muscles being shown. Long dirty blonde hair is cascading down her back, all the way down to her buttocks, before stopping. Nichole let's out a sigh at the the sight of her small breasts, not cutting board flat, but not something she could brag about, if she had anyone to brag to, that is.

After cleaning herself at a near perfectionist level, she clothes herself in a black T-shirt and blue jeans (without rips and tears in them), covering her shirt in a black Nike hoodie and hiding her feet in a matching pair of Nike shoes. The outfit covers almost all of her pale body, how she likes it, being self conscious of it for no real reason.

Returning to her room as silent as a cat, Nichole pulls the Samsung* off of it's charger, entering in the 10-digit passcode, she plugs in a pair of earphones and turns on the classical rock station from Pandora*. Checking the time before she dives into her reading, it reads 6:03 a.m. Humming along to Ozzy Osbourne, she pulls up Arlington, the book she failed to finish last night, whilst waiting for the bus to arrive.

After finishing the book, whilst being grateful for the rather good passerby, she grabs her bag and her sister's keys. Walking down the steps, she looks up at the gray Acura, which she only knows as that due to her brother. Turning the ignition on and upping the heat to max, she exits the vehicle before walking to the bus stop. Checking her divers watch to see that it's now glowing decently, the time now reads 7:02.

Seeing the familiar block of steel labeled 12 rolling her way, she shifts her balance from one foot to the other. Once the bus stops in front of her, she looks up to to see the familiar face of Mr. Wyatt, the driver. Climbing aboard, and sealing her fate, she gives a courteous good morning, only to be met with a polite nod her way. Sitting herself in the front, at her assigned seat, she sits alone, looking out the window as the buildings pass by, reminding her of the passing of time. She sees her reflection in the glass, a girl with dull eyes and a face with no expression. She stares and wanders of the last time she laughed, only to find no memory of such a time. How pitiful. Is all that goes through her mind at the thought.