Elle Greenaway poured herself a glass of scotch. The amber liquid filled up her glass slowly as she tipped the bottle carefully. She hadn't wanted to pour too much, just enough. It felt right for the occasion.

It was a beautiful night out, actually. A tad bit too cold for her liking, and she had to put on a thin sweatshirt to stand it. But it was beautiful, all the same. The stars speckled through the sky, and the moon was almost hauntingly full, it lit up the night sky in a way that could only be described as glorious. She marveled at it as she stepped out onto the deck of her apartment. It was a nice place that she'd finally settled down in, she was fortunate to have found it.

A single chair sat out on it, a table rest beside it. The chair was an angelic white, nothing very special about it. She would have decorated the deck more, but it seemed the sky, and the seasons, did all the work for her. In the fall different colored leaves would brighten it up, in the summer the clear blue sky and gorgeous sunsets added enough scenery in itself, in the spring she could watch from her deck as the kids went on their easter egg hunts in the houses across the way, and in the winter a thin layer of snow would cover it in a beautiful white blanket.

Of course, that blanket happened to be freezing cold and there was no way in hell she was going to sit outside in it, but it was beautiful nevertheless.

The cool breeze graced her skin, blew her hair out of her face. She'd let it grow out again, and it was long enough to protect her neck from the cool air. She'd still considered cutting it, she missed the lack of work she had to put into short hair. It seemed to take on a life of its own.

She took a sip of the scotch, let out a relaxed sigh as it burned her throat on the way down. She closed her eyes for a moment. She could hear a gunshot clear as day, as though it had just happened. She no longer flinched when she heard it.

Elle opened her eyes and looked into the night sky, into the little specks that formed all types of different shapes. She smiled as she remembered an old ramble from one of her old coworkers on stars. He'd gone on and on, and she'd let him. Personally, she actually found that one more interesting than the rest. It was odd, the rambles used to sometimes make her roll her eyes, but she missed them dearly. Sometimes if she closed her eyes she could still hear the fast paced facts that flooded freely from excited lips. Could hear the throaty laugh of another colleague as a sarcastic remark was made in response to it. Could still picture the faces. All of them.

Did she miss them? Of course she did.

But she did what she had to do; and you know what? She was happy now. Some days were worse than others, some days felt crushing even, but others? Others sometimes went by when she didn't think of the past. Where she'd go out, do her job, go out to eat, talk to friends, and she'd smile, she'd laugh, she'd forget about the scar on her chest, and the scars on her mind. She'd just be happy.

She was alive.

If Elle could have gone back, would she have done things differently? She sometimes did mull over the question, but the answer would forever be the same: probably not. Elle had made her choice, and deep down she knew she didn't wholly regret it. Did it haunt her dreams? Of course it did. Did she sometimes feel a strong regret in her heart? Yes. Did the gunshot plow through her mind in times of complete silence? Yes, yes it did. But she did what she did, and she lived. She moved on, and she made a life for herself. A happy one. A one that wasn't filled with death and blood, with scars and words written on walls. It was one filled with the occasional torment, the still familiar heartbreak, the sounds of laughter, the sounds of cries, smiles, pain, joy, it was life.

Eight years. How crazy that so much time had passed.

Elle held her glass up to the sky in a toast, felt a single tear trickle down her cheek, and with much conviction she said,

"Here is to winning."