The rain felt cold on her skin. Somehow, the wetness of the morning clung about her like a cloud, and her mind began to sink into the same thoughts that clouded her days and nights. If anyone could read her mind, they would see a quiet, crying girl, but she knew no one could see past her bright modern clothes and mornings-length make-up application. It was this shield that she relied on to hide the shivers the rain sent up her spine, the terror she felt gripping the handle and opening this doorway to her Junior High. "Elizabeth Wilson was well liked and a friendly student at Rogers Middle School" the papers would write, but even they would miss the pain she had suffered, the darkness that had taken over her life.