I would just like to say, I'm so sorry for taking this long to update!

I just got caught up on the holidays and after that , juts unmotivated. But I was today! So here it is!


Sleep. It felt so good to sleep in … Sleep in? Bolting upright in my bed, I whipped my head to the side to look at the alarm clock. The glowing red numbers said 8:43 o'clock. "Oh shit!" Jumping off the bed, I ran to my closet, throwing things out the doors and quickly replacing my pajamas with clean clothes.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I reprimanded myself as I shoved a piece of gum in mouth and grabbed some boots. Carrying my foot wear down the hall and to the kitchen, I grabbed my keys off the counter, picking up an elastic band on the way. At the door, I pulled my boots onto my feet, and exited the apartment, locking the door behind me.

While I half walked, half ran, down the hall to the elevator, I braided my hair and let it sit over my shoulder. About halfway to the elevator, I realized that I forgot my backpack and books. Growling to myself, I backpedaled down the hall, unlocked the door, ran to my room and grabbed my bag.


"Late again, Miss Carter." Mr. Foster snapped as I snuck into second period Biology. I stood at the door, with my mouth hanging slightly open. How could he have seen me? He had his back turned, writing on the board, the whole time! Snickers echoed through the room, as I slinked to my desk, late again, for the third time this month.

I sat down at my regular desk, beside Sophie, and pulled my text book and note paper out of my bag. "What's wrong with you?" Sophie whispered, leaning across the space between our desks. "I was at the barn late." I replied. "Again?" I nodded and started writing down what was written on the board. "You look like the walking dead." Sophie said, turning back to her paper too. "I feel like the walking dead." Sophie snorted as she continued to write. "Well, there's only two more days of school." She said. I sighed; those two days couldn't be over faster.

When the bell rang, everyone backed their bags and grabbed their stuff, rushing out the door for their next class. I tiredly stuffed my books and paper into my bag, yawning as I did. Sophie was standing by the door, waiting for me to catch up, but as I was about to leave, a voice stopped me. "Isabelle, may I talk to you?" Mr. Foster asked, putting down a pile of papers on his desk.

Sophie gave me an empathetic look before she turned to leave. "See you at lunch." She waved. When the room was empty except for Mr. Foster and I, he leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "You wanna tell me what's going on?" Mr. Foster asked; his voice more sympathetic than when he called me out at the beginning of class. I sighed, letting my shoulders sag.

"I don't know," I said. "I've been working late."

"Is that all?" Mr. Foster looked at me skeptically. I nodded, deciding to leave out the part about the reoccurring nightmares. I hadn't told anyone about them. Not Sophie, not even Mac. No one knows that I wake up in the night, terrified with a ringing pain in my abdomen and graze marks on my arm, where I had been shot by own mother just months ago. The wound left scars. Not just physical ones, but a reminder of the day. I don't wear T shirts anymore, so I can hide the mark.

"Alright." Mr. Foster nodded. "You don't have to tell me." He said. I nodded silently and turned to leave. "But make me a promise," His voice stopped me. I stopped walked and turned back to look at him and nodded again. "Tell someone." Mr. Foster said. "Okay." I said quietly, giving a ghost of a smile. "Okay." He nodded and turned back to his desk.

Quickly, I walked down the hall to my locker and exchanged my biology books for English, then scurried to class before the bell rang, making me late again. "There you are!" Katie exclaimed as I took my seat behind her in English class. "Here I am." I said, dropping my books on top of my desk.

"I missed you in outdoor Ed." Katie said, turning around in her seat. "Sorry," I said, rummaging around in my bag for my pencil case. "I slept in again."

"Again?" Katie mumbled. "I know you don't like it when we ask, but are sure you're alright?"

Successfully freeing my pencil case from the depths of my bag, I resurfaced to answer Katie's question. "Yes, I'm fine. Just tired." I said. Katie nodded, unconvinced, as Mrs. Aitken walked through the door.

The rest of my day went quickly, lunch and my last two periods flew by in a blur, and I found myself hurrying out to the truck, eager to get to home. Swiftly tossing my bag into the back seat, I jumped in and turned the truck on, hightailing it out of the parking lot.

It didn't take me long to get home. I had the truck in the garage within twenty minutes of leaving the school. Pulling the key from the ignition, I leaned over the back seat and grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulders as I jumped out, kicking the door closed behind me.

While walking across the garage to the elevators, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to the spot on the cement floor where I had lay, slowly bleeding out on the ground. The blood might have been cleaned up, but in my mind, I could still see it. I could still see my crumpled form laying there, writhing in pain. I could see my mother drive away in my truck after she broke my window and left me for dead.

The slamming of a car door brought me back to reality and I began making my way to the elevators again.

After letting myself into the apartment, I dropped my bag at the door and trudged into my room, where I changed into some blue jeans and a yellow sweater. Walking to the bathroom after having changed, I brushed out my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, allowing the fringe to fall into my face. I was starting to finally feel relaxed, but something was missing. Slippers. Jogging down the hall, back to my room, I pulled on my silver, bootie slippers, tucking my pants into them.

I sighed contently. Dragging my feet, I slid back into the kitchen area, flicking the TV on to a Criminal Minds repeat marathon as I went, and continued to the cupboard where I dug around for some chocolate.

Filled up on chocolate, I plopped down the couch, gluing my eyes to the TV screen, watching my all-time favourite show. I had only gotten about half an hour into an episode, before I felt my eyes start to droop, and fell into sleep.

Darkness. That's all I could see. Or not see. It was just like every time I fell asleep. I could hear voices whispering things. But I couldn't make out what they were saying. The pain in my arm and stomach throbbed again. "You could have saved me." A voice hissed in my ear. I felt cold. "I'm sorry." I whispered to the voice.

"It's your entire fault." The voice hissed again, sounding angrier than before. I knew who the voice belonged to. It was only a matter of time before the owner of the voice would be shot. It happened every time I dreamed this dream. "I'm sorry, dad." I cried, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for it to happen.

But nothing did. There was no shot. There was no cry of pain, or the smell of blood. It was quiet. I turned to find my father, but just as I was turning, the crack of a gunshot echoed throughout the empty space. Pain ripped me apart and I pressed my hands to my stomach, covering the exact spot where I really had been shot.

This time I felt blood ooze through my fingers and screamed out in pain. "This is your entire fault."

Gasping awake, I jumped off the couch and held a hand to my stomach. There was no blood. I was okay. Letting out shaky breaths, I checked the time on the TV, which was still playing Criminal Minds. It was 5:24. Sighing, I wiped my forehead and went to my room, grabbing my phone and wallet.

Pulling my jacket and boots on at the door, I snatched my keys from the small table by the door and left for the crime lab.

I walked into the lab, approaching the front desk to get a visitors pass, after I had parked the truck on the street. "Hi, how can I help you?" The receptionist smiled brightly as I walked over to her. "I'm here to see Mac in the crime lab." I said. "Does he know you're coming?" The receptionist asked, her smile fading slightly. I've been here almost every day, and she still can't remember who I am. "Yes." I said through clenched teeth.

"Okay, just one moment please." She smiled and turned to some drawers and pulled out a visitor pass. "There you are." She said, handing the pass to me. "Thanks." I flashed her a brief smile, taking the pass, and turned to the elevator.

Once the doors opened, I walked out and into the halls of the lab. Technicians adorned in long white lab coats walked this way and that. Just across the hall was the Mac's office, with him sitting in his chair behind his desk. Walking across the hall, I dodged lab techs as they walked through the halls with purpose; holding evidence or their nose stuck in a manila folder.

I tapped on the glass doors and Mac looked up from his desk, smiling at me and waving me in. "How was school?" He asked with a knowing smile. "Awesome." I said sarcastically. "You're biology teacher called me and told me were late again." He smiled. Of course he did.

"It's not funny." I pouted, seating myself on the red sofa. "Are you hungry?" He asked, setting a folder down on his desk. I smiled. It was our annual Thursday night out at the diner for cheese burgers and French fries. "Yeah." I said, watching as Mac stood up and grabbed his jacket.

"Let's go then." He said.

"So, how was school, besides being late?" Mac asked, as he sat across from me in the red diner booth. I shrugged, swallowing my mouthful. "It was okay. Nothing exciting happened. Some guys got into a small food fight at lunch and whipped a powdered doughnut at my forehead." I said. Just then, my phone started to ring in my pocket. I had totally forgotten what I told Mac last night about it not working so I couldn't call him.

Mac glared at me from across the table. "I thought you said your phone didn't work?" He said. Smiling cheekily, I pulled my from my pocket and checked the message. "Did I say that?" I asked. Mac picked up a French fry and flicked it at me. We spent the night talking and laughing, and I had completely forgotten about my nightmare, smiling inside for the first time in a long time.


Yeah, doughnut to the head actually happened to poor dear author.

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