• Cold blue and red lights of patrol cars reflect off the solid brick walls of an alleyway. Yellow tape surrounds the scene, keeping curious onlookers away. In midst of hushed conversations, shouting, shuffling, a spotlight shines on a lifeless body of an ordinary female teenager, her limbs as cold and white as snow and stiff due to rigor mortis. A massive blow to her left side of forehead had killed her -caused by high 15 feet drop from a window of a barren motel. Her skull is crushed to bits, deforming her depression-soaked brain. Her delicate blue eyes are now sunken black spheres, wide with surprise. Her jaw is open from the force of the drop. Just a few hour ago she was an alive person, alive and healthy, but her mind screaming in pain itself has caused, groaning with the effort as it tried to find a solution, crying with desolate despair. Just a week ago, she was a fun-loving, active, popular and beautiful 15 year old laughing with her friends in a mall. Just a month ago, she was the center of the attention as people lavished her with gifts, congratulations and greetings -it was her birthday.
    But now, she is nobody. Nobody knows where she is now. Nobody remembers who she was. Nobody sheds a tear for her. This is her funeral -lit by cold blue and red lights, lamented by police sirens, placed inside a thick and black body bag, transported inside a trunk of a cop car to a far away morgue. Forgotten.