Izzie was sitting in the chair in the corner of her room when Addison entered.

"Hi," she greeted Addison without turning away from the window.

"Hi," Addison answered, pulling up another chair so that she was sitting beside the window as well.

"They told me this morning that I could go home today."

"That's good, right?" Addison said encouragingly.

She hung her head so that her hair shielded her face from Addison's eyes. "I guess…I mean, I was happy for a minute, and then, I…" Looking up, she said, "I realized that I don't have much of a home left to go to. A family makes a home a home…and I don't have that anymore."

"I'm sorry," Addison whispered.

"Tell me about it," Izzie abruptly changed the subject.

"About what?" Addison gently prodded.

"The memorial service, the funeral, the burial…the others. Everything."

Addison shook her head slowly. "Iz, I…"

"What?"
"The funerals that we went to…they were lovely. We had a hard time, but they were…very nice."

"George…?" she whispered, not daring to ask about Doug.

"There were no funerals for them, not yet anyway. George was talked about in several articles—they named him a hero for saving all the kids in his class, but…You can put that together when you get out. I can help," Addison offered.

Smiling weakly, Izzie drew her legs up underneath her in the chair. "I guess. It's just a lot."

"I know," Addison replied.

"The others…the kids…How many were there?"

"Iz, do you really…"
"How many?" Izzie interrupted.

"Seventeen students, one teacher…and George."

She nodded slowly, her gaze drifted back out the window.

Addison reached out and gently grabbed up Izzie's hand. "Don't do this to yourself, Iz."

"Do what?" she asked absently.

"Feel guilty. You can't, honey. There was nothing you could have done."
Izzie closed her eyes as she squeezed Addison's hand slightly. Just as suddenly as she tightened her grip, she was suddenly pulling away. "I wish…I wish that he would have killed me too."

"Iz-" Addison started to say.

"No," she snapped, her eyes suddenly deadlocked onto Addison's. "No. Why me? Why did I live? I should have died, Addie, I should have died, and all of those people are dead and I'm still here. It's not fair. It isn't fair."

"No," Addison agreed. "No, it's not. But you…This is survivor's guilt, Iz, you don't need to talk like that. I don't want to hear you talk like that."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Survivor's guilt?" she scoffed. "Because it's such a wonderful thing to survive, right?"

"Please don't talk like that," Addison whispered, feeling her face sadden despite her efforts to fight it.

"All those people…they died, Addison, they died. And I'm still here. What makes me so special that I'm still here, and they're not?"
Addison shook her head. "I think…What Doug did, Iz, for the most part…I think it was random. But he loved you. He loved you with all of his heart, and you certainly can't feel bad that you survived while none of them did."

"You can't tell me what I can and can't feel," she retorted.

"I can tell you what I feel," Addison answered quietly. "I love Lanie with all of my heart, with every breath that I take…but when I see these other parents who've lost their children, when I see you…I almost…I feel badly that I still have her. Do you understand?"

Izzie nodded. "I guess."
"Nobody blames you," Addison said softly.

"Yes, they do," she answered matter of factly. "I'm sure they do." Swallowing hard, she pulled herself up out of the chair and walked towards the door. "Can you…take me out of here?"

"Sure," Addison answered.

OooooooooooooooooO

"Are you sure you want to go to your house?" Addison asked as they turned down her street.

"I'm sure," Izzie affirmed. "I have things I need to do, things I…"

"Nothing that can't wait a little longer if you need it to," Addison pointed out.

"No," Izzie replied firmly. "No, I want to go home."

They pulled up into Izzie's driveway, and they walked up her front walk together.

"Addie," she whispered, her hand on Addison's elbow. The front door was slightly ajar.

"Let me go in first," Addison said, stepping in front of her friend.

Addison pushed open the front door, walking forward into Izzie's living room. Spray painted in bright red across her white wall were the words, "Their blood is on your hands. Someone needs to pay."

Izzie came up behind Addison, murmuring the words under her breath. "Nobody blames me, huh?"

Addison was at a total loss as to what to say, once again. "I…"
"It's okay," she said, moving into the kitchen so she wouldn't have to look at the wall anymore. "I'll clean it up tomorrow."
"Let me help you," Addison insisted.

"That's okay, " she said. "I can do it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Addison answered.

Her eyes glassed over slightly as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"Yeah…" she whispered. "Yeah…I do."