Derek Lettman, emokid, woke up that morning with a new feeling. No, it wasn't power. It was determination. He still felt just as powerless and depressed as usual, but now he felt a determination to make others feel the same way as he did.
He got out of bed and got dressed in a tight dark blue T-shirt, tight blue jeans with a studded belt and a pair of Vans-type shoes.
He looked in his bedroom mirror and saw his usual self. His straight dark brown emo hair hid half his face, only allowing one eye lined with heavy black eyeliner to be visible to the world.
Suddenly, he had that sense of determination again. He opened his desk drawer and took out his favorite razor blade. He liked to cut himself. Not his wrists, though. Just his arms. He wasn't trying to kill himself. He just wanted to make sure he was alive.
Derek wasn't part of any clique (unless it was a clique of one). He was the only emo at the high school. But soon, that may not be true. He looked at his razor blade and smiled.
Nadine Ferguson awoke with a new purpose. Or rather, a new enhanced sense of purpose. She already felt she had a purpose to begin with. All this school year, and the previous two, she had tried her hardest to convert all the Godless heathens at school to her religion. And in all that time, she had nothing to show for her efforts. Perhaps she came off a bit too strong. She was possibly the most prudish girl at the school and had a bit of a mean streak. But she was trying to save everyone's eternal soul. It was very important.
But a year or two into her "mission", with only the help of her two friends Tina and Paul (who also attended the same Baptist church that she did), she started to feel like she was fighting a losing battle. It was clear that people would rather wallow in sin than see the light. People like the cheerleaders, who strutted around like sluts. Or people like the Goths, who practiced witchcraft. Why couldn't she help any of these evil people? It frustrated her. But now, suddenly, she had no frustration. She had a clear purpose in mind. It was refreshing.
After getting dressed in one of her usual outfits (a high-necked long-sleeved starch white blouse, ankle-length beige skirt, and 2-inch heels - all extremely conservative) and forming her hair into a severe bun, she opened her desk and pulled out a small wooden cross. She knew that this cross would help her on her mission, which now (in her mind) had turned into a crusade.
She smiled. Soon, people will finally see the light.
