Currently still accepting! Hidden by the shadows, there are those of us who carry a burden no person should ever have. The select few control the most important decision there could ever be. Who dies. We are the Reapers. "Bye, mom. Love you!" Ana shouted across the small apartment with a poptart halfway out her mouth. Her mother rounded the corner, nabbing her daughter by the edge of her shirt. Ana turned around and hugged her mother. "Love you, too." Her mother replied before releasing her daughter. Then her father appeared and hugged her. However, something felt wrong. She shrugged the feeling off. As she turned to open the front door to leave for school, she heard a loud bang. She opened the door. Her little brother stood there with blood rushing out of his stomach. Behind him stood their older brother. "No!" Ana shot awake in bed, sweat soaking the sheets beneath her. She glanced around the barren room, wondering where she was before it dawned on her. That's right, she was in a girl's home since her mother became unable to care for her. The clock on the bedside table read five o'clock. She may as well get up. Hanging her feet off the bed, she let them touch the cold floor. After dressing, she tip-toed past the rest of the rooms and down the stairs before she began breakfast. This was her routine now for several years. She rarely slept, and nothing interested her. Now she made breakfast for the rest of the girls in the home, then she would leave before they awoke. If she didn't have school, she would just walk around the city, looking for her next target. Today was one of those days. ~ Trent awoke early, as usual. He still hadn't gotten the hang of sleep. It was only his third week here, and he was finding it hard to function. He had a little sister who looked up to him, but he really didn't feel anything toward her or his parents. So he had to pretend. Never having experience with this before, it was quite hard. He knew he would one day begin to feel something toward them, but right now he just tried to stay out of the house as long as possible. Thankfully, his family summed it up to being a teenager. At six o'clock, he was out the door and walking toward the park. It seemed to be the only place he felt he belonged. Nobody bothered him or expected him to act a certain way. Here he could walk in solace. Donning a white t-shirt with a black archaic symbol and jeans, he looked like any other teenager.