Chapter 1

Caroline

"Katherine! You can't keep doing this! Enzo is just using you can't you see that? Why won't you listen to me?"

"You're wrong Caroline! Enzo loves me and I love him! Why can't you just be happy for us?"

"Because you can't see, he is always shooting up, hell he only comes to school when he needs to get a hit when he has run out. How many drugs has he gotten you into now? How much have you done today alone? I can't keep doing this Katy, you're my best friend but lately I only see you when you are high or about to get high and need me to cover for you!"

"Well you don't need to worry about that anymore Caroline, have a nice life bitch."

Katherine ended the conversation by storming off and slamming the door of my car behind her. This was one of many conversations we had been having in the past few weeks. Everything was perfect and then she met Enzo one night and BAM, she thought she was in love with him but I knew what he was like, I had seen all the signs but not managed to convince Katherine before it was too late.

The phone is ringing, it is 1am why would someone be calling the house so late?

I hear my mother get up and answer the phone, "Hello?" I hear her groggy voice ask.

There is a pause before she says anything again, I suspect it is someone from the station, why else would they be calling?

"Are you sure it is her?" another pause.

"Oh god, what happened?" I am starting to get a very bad feeling. I rolled over and decided to check my phone, I have a message from Katherine. 'I'm sorry about what I said earlier, you know I love you Caroline. You're my best friend. See you at school tomorrow :p'

I was too caught up in figuring what to say beck to Katherine that I did not hear the rest of my mother's conversation, nor did I hear he come into my room. It always ended up like this. We would fight and then she would send me a message and everything would go back to normal for a few days.

My mother was crying, Liz Forbes was the sheriff of Mystic Falls and it takes a lot to make her cry but here she was, standing in my doorway with silent tears steadily rolling down her face.

"Mum? What's wrong? Who was that on the phone?" Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"Honey I don't know how to tell you this but that was one of the deputies… they received an anonymous call about some kids shooting up near the falls. When they got out there they found 2 people dead and anyone else that could have been there was gone. I'm so sorry honey but Kath…" She continued talking but I couldn't hear any of it over the rushing in my ears. My eyes welled and my heart constricted. My best friend was dead….

I awoke with a gasp and reached for the water which sat on my bedside table. I have not had that dream in a long time, it was more of a memory though. After chugging the half-full glass and taking a few breaths to calm myself I got up and sat at my desk. While waiting for my computer to boot up I let my mind wander.

It has been almost 10 years since the day I found out my best friend had overdosed along with her boyfriend Enzo. The police suspected that it was a murder suicide but was never able to prove it. The funeral was a small affair consisting of my mum, Katherine's mother, and a few friends of Katherine's. I remember seeing Marcel there, he was Enzo's friend and was one of the few that I could tolerate of his posse. I knew Marcel was one of the guys who used to shoot up with Katherine and Enzo and after that day I never saw him again. I heard that he had transferred to New York somewhere but that was the last I heard of him.

Sometimes the dreams are different, sometimes in my dreams it is me that the heroin is slowly pulling under, sometimes the scenery changes but it always ends up the same, and it always ends with my best friend dying.

A few years ago during my time at university, when these dreams were a constant I began writing them all down (or typing in this case) and it became my outlet. Eventually I began writing a story, at first it started out as a fanfiction based on my life with a few extras added in, and then one day I decided to change it to an original story. That was how I ended up writing and releasing my first novel titled 'Written in Blood' it was about a young girl who discovered her best friend's body and eventually became a detective, reaping justice on those that dared harm her best friend.

I know that I never got justice for Katherine's death but my novel became the way that I brought justice down on those men. So when my computer finished booting itself up I began typing, I typed what the dream was and how I felt during and after it. Basically this was my diary and then I wrote more to my new novel, it still had yet to have a name but that was that last part that usually came to me, after the story was complete. Almost 5 hours later I had finished writing and the sun was beginning to rise from my 5th floor apartment. The stairs were a bitch to get up when the elevator decided to play up but the view that I received every morning was well worth any hardship that those stairs gave me.

When I eventually got up and decided to start the day it was 9am, I got changed into my jogging gear and went for my usual run of 3 blocks, as usual when I passed the art gallery 2 blocks from my apartment I took a break and had a wander around the gallery. As I was exiting I saw a sign promoting a new artist who had just opened his own shop not far from the gallery and was having his grand opening in a weeks' time. The add said that the artist in question was name Niklaus and was partnered with a man named Marcel, when I saw the name of his partner a shiver ran down my spine and my stomach clenched.

I had never been able to even think of that name without red hot fury running down my back. I did not know Marcel personally when he was with Enzo and Katherine but I had heard enough about him to know that he was the real pusher in the group. Some of the rumours that I had heard throughout high school depicted him as a modern day drug runner. Some said that he was just a misunderstood kid with a bad childhood and some said that he killed his father for a hit. I didn't believe them and some of the stories were too fucked up to believe but what I did know was that he was there the night that Katherine died, he had given a statement to my mother and then left town. To me leaving down before your best friends' funeral was a sign of cowardice and a sign that he was trying to hide something. Every time I see that name I always think of him, there is no way that this Marcel could be him though, I mean how many Marcels would there be in such a large city as New York.