CHAPTER 14

FLASHBACK

KATE'S POV

He was dead – gunned down – and now he was dead. Those bullets had been intended for her… but there was nothing she could do now. The police would deal with his body – the body of the man she had as good as murdered – the body of the man that she loved – Tom.

She wanted to stop running, she couldn't hear the sound of the sirens any more. She couldn't hear the sound of anyone chasing her – they had given up on their pursuit, and she was no longer running to escape them, but to get as far away from him as possible – the body of the man they had just shot dead instead of her.

Maybe he wasn't dead, but maybe even now lying in a hospital bed barely clinging onto life. She wanted to turn back – to go running back in the direction she had just come, but that would be playing into their hands and no good would come of it.

Tom was dead – she had seen the blood – too much blood for him to have survived. She had held his limp body, called to him without response, and she knew in her heart that he'd gone. If she turned back now it would all be for nothing… and so she kept on running.

Tears of grief flooded her eyes and spilled out over onto her cheeks. Their salty sting was blinding but she numb to everything beside her overwhelming grief – it made her feel sick. Her feet were raw from running, her shoes rubbing away layers of skin as though it was nothing more than tissue paper, but she tried to focus on her physical rather than her emotional physical pain. It reminded her that she was still alive… still human.

"Tom…" She whispered to herself, fighting against the upheavals of her chest. She was really crying now, she could hear her own pathetic wailing above the busy city traffic. So many people's lives had been destroyed because of her – her stepfather's, her mother's, Tom's… his families. Their lives had been altered forever because of what she had done. She wanted to tear her guts out with her bare hands, so many times since that evening had she longed for the sight of blood – her own blood to replace that which she had spilt – she wanted no more of it.

How could she even live with this guilt for the rest of her life? She was just now beginning to realise the mistake she had made the evening that she had killed her stepfather – now that she had lost everyone and everything which had ever meant anything to her… and that's when she realised that she had stopped running.