The next two chapters are short, they were going to be one but they sat better separately. At least I aren't holding them back from you, you can have them both at once!

Haunted by the past

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Remembering

Lindsay drove away from the crime scene, which so resembled the one she was part of as a 14 year old girl, with tears streaming down her face, dodging traffic, trying to get home as fast as possible. Memories of that day that she had tried to suppress for so many years came flooding back. The metallic smell of the blood, the taste of bile in her mouth as she tried to keep the meal she had just eaten down, the glazed look in their eyes which were fixed open, the smell of burning from the shotgun, the sounds of the screams as her friends were shot dead, the sounds of the gun shots, the lights from the police cars and redundant ambulances, the sobs of her friends mothers, the feeling of guilt that she did nothing.

Amazingly Lindsay made it back to her apartment without causing any traffic accidents. She grabbed her phone from its place on the passenger seat where she had thrown it when she entered the car and made her way up to her apartment. Once inside she dropped her things on the dresser by the door and walked purposefully to the bathroom, making a quick detour to the alcohol cupboard in her kitchen to pick up a bottle of tequila. Tears still clouded her eyes causing her to crash into her sofa, the end table, the kitchen surface, the door frame to the bathroom and the edge of the bath, although she didn't feel anything. She removed her clothes, turned on the shower and sat under the cold water, her knees tucked under her chin; her arms enclosing them, hoping it would wash her feelings away. Tears began to mix with the water which was flowing over her face. Her eyes caught sight of something glistening at the other end of the bath tub again, as it had that morning. She leant forwards and picked it up, holding it in both hands, centimetres away from her face. She fidgeted with it, her toes curling and uncurling under her. Feelings which she thought were long gone were resurfacing and she still didn't know how to deal with them.

A few days following the funeral of her best friends Lindsay found herself back in her father's wheat field, another bottle of whiskey in her hand. She lay down, watching the clouds pass over head, tears again filling her eyes. When her vision was beginning to become cloudier, from a mixture of tears and alcohol, she sat up. When she did return to a sitting position she noticed the photograph she had been holding the day of her friends' funeral which she had forgotten to pick up in her drunken state. The tears which had barely retreated resurfaced as she remembered them. The conversations they had that day in the diner, about boys, about the approaching summer, that they would be friends forever. Forever. The word brought fresh tears, her three friends would be friends forever, they were together, but they left her, alone. That was when she noticed the glass from the bottle she broke the last time she was there and remembered the feeling it gave her when she punched the ground, the feeling that her pain was dripping away with the blood. She leant forwards and picked up one of the bigger shards of glass. She ran her fingers over the sharp edges, at first softly, but gradually harder, 

she could feel the corners scratching the skin of her fingertips and again, she continued to press harder until one of the corners pierced her skin. The second she saw the crimson liquid seep out of her fingertip she felt a wash of relief throughout her entire body. She squeezed her finger to cause the liquid to run quicker, causing drops to fall to the ground beneath her, thus beginning a downward spiral which would follow her throughout her life.

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