NOTE: Thank you to the few who have reviewed I appreciate it! :) It has taken me long enough right?

I bob my head to the beat just a little and slump in my chair. I'm sure that what I'm doing isn't helping but when all I can hear is a constant loud wave of water like I was drowning in it or the gurgling of someone choking on their blood by my hands...anything is better than curling up with my hands cupped around my ears begging the world to just stop but never actually saying a word and I KNOW she is going to be furious but it drives me insane. She music isn't exactly soft, but it's not hard either so it's perfect to just listen too and sit here bloody...I forgot about her quirks in music. You'd think it'd be just dance or pop, right? She'll listen to anything if it's good even if it's out of her preferred genre which changes a bit. She has playlists titled for every kind of emotion or situation which is quirky I guess, but it's always funny that she know's what song to play at the right moment.

All I had to do was click on a playlist and it was oddly soothing to be honest. I'm going to have to ask her to copy some of this stuff for me if she doesn't kill me you know? Thinking about that makes me sigh and slump a little in my chair because I hate seeing her mad so why did I do this? Because the screams and the heat from the fire I felt those months ago won't go away, of course! Do you know what's complete bullshit people tell you? 'It's not your fault. You had no choice.' this has been shit for me lately simply because people just tell me this to get a smile and can't stand me killing myself from the inside because I HAD to kill and now I have to deal with people who only care for coverage or to meet a survivor when I can't handle myself or how angry not only I am but how angry the world is at me for not coming out completely fine.

I lift the bottle to my lips and take a gug. I am not a drinker, but the flashes and surreal hands dragging me in my dream trying to choke me seemed to both calm down and get worse as soon as I started drinking. I don't even know what I'm drinking, but it's helping thought it tastes like piss. It's not whisky I know that, but it is strong and there wasn't much of the bottle anyways. The hands and faces of the people i've- my victims...be standing at the edge waiting and that is far scarier than before so I take another swig and sigh sadly because as soon as I fall asleep I know it'll happen.

I'm haunted by the Island that tried to kill me...and by surviving I came out worse than a survivor, I feel like a murder and a damn dangerous one at that. Heh so much so I don't want to touch anyone and anyone who touches me without warning is put in danger themselves. The other day I was out because things were too tense here and some poor bloke touched my shoulder scaring me and what did I do? I hurt him...an innocent man and I hurt him. I broke his wrist and I'm sure there's a near permanent mark on his neck where I put my hand ready to pop his head for trying anything yet I realized I was in the bloody park and I just- I can't keep doing this! Every turn or move I could hurt someone who doesn't deserve! All I am is a famous man's daughter who became a murderer and should probably be locked up with no way out.

I take another drink, but this time something drops on my face. It's blood from my fist. I forgot about my breakdown as my mind was consumed about everything else. I was in the bathroom...I'm not even me anymore, I can't recognise my own face perhaps the person in the mirror is who I really am? But they feel like a stranger...I was tired of trying to look at her me in the mirror and stomach all the things she's done, all the blood she's collected in her palms, and I just couldn't stand it anymore. When I realized what happened the mirror was smashed and my fist was bleeding and all I could think is "all the blood I have on my hands should be mine and not anyone else's." and my face was wet with my own tears.

I have become so numbed to the world that I could feel the pain coming from my bloody knuckles, but I didn't care and I didn't care that I was crying. I just didn't care because I don't feel human anymore, I feel like a monster who deserves to be left to rot in her own problems, fears, sins, and blood but I know I deserve a little help. I know this is not me but it feels like me and I can't help but feel so lost and scared at that that the fact I am even sitting here in this chair breathing is a miracle that just shouldn't be. I know so many conflicting things and I feel so many things yet at the same time I feel so void and empty should be a clue as to how fucked up I am then again I'm not even sure how fucked up that is. I'm just not okay I know that and when the click of the door lock sounds my heart drops and I put my hand over my face forgetting about it being bloody and sure enough I get a bit on me.

"Lara?" Comes that familiar voice. I am tempted not to answer so hopefully she'll think I am gone maybe not see me in this chair with a bottle of alcohol in my lap. I force myself to grunt in acknowledgement at her though. "Hey sweetie." Her voice sounds a little fragile but soft as always and I can hear her drop something on the floor and toss her jacket to the side as she steps closer. "What are you doing over there?"

"I don't know." I sound as exhausted as ever and she notices that because I can hear her in front of me and gasp, but I can't look at her. I'm afraid I'll see disappointment stamped on her face and I just can't deal with that that as I calculated her footsteps stop at the bathroom but she goes dead silent. "I don't know anymore." More walking...but she's still silent I can already feel my eyes well up knowing she must not like me much right now. "Sam?" I manage to ask. I can feel the bottle in my lap be lifted off and hear it set on the coffee table.

To my surprise she takes my bleeding hand gently, carefully moves it as well as my arm I draped over my forehead and the expression on her face isn't what I thought it'd be oh no it isn't. It isn't even pity it's just sadness pure sadness and she looks hurt at my puffy eyes and red nose I'm sure of. "Oh sweetie..." She says in a low voice and runs her thumb over my hand but careful not to touch where I cut it and it makes me want to cry more but only because she's the ONLY family I have now and the fact I am a danger to her hurts. "Come on..." She tells me and takes my other hand as she waits for me to stand. "Careful." She tells me gently as I stand up but nearly fall over but she helps me get my balance and puts a hand on my hip until I have it.

She leads me to her room, did she know I hated mine? I don't know but for whatever reason she sat me down and told me not to move and disappears. I'm not going to move after all I don't even have enough strength to do it as is it's like all my energy has been just wiped out of me completely and I wouldn't have even if I wanted too. I hear her moving around things and water running, but I don't inquire what it is nor do I wonder what she's doing I just let her do what she wants. Her room though is oddly soothing and more comfortable than mine lately. I hate it and I don't know why...

"Okay, sweetie back." She gives me a quick smile and places a bowl of water on the web and sits down. I hold the bowl so it doesn't spill and she thanks me but places it inbetween her legs and takes my wounded hand and dips a rag into the water. "Sorry.." She mutters in advance for the wet cold rag touching my hand, but I don't care that it hurts and I don't flinch. She looks to me for confirmation I'm okay and continues when she see's me watching her hand. "I'll clean the mirror up tomorrow." Her hand is smooth across my hand just dabs at the irritated open areas and stroking blood away with the rag. She's had experience doing this and I'm a cause for that. "I-" I look up at her, but she takes a look at me and just shrugs it off which is unlike her. I can't speak at least not right now. I don't have the energy. "There all done now I have to bandage it okay?" I nod, she turns my hand over and bandages it. The cloth overlaps each layer until she's satisfied and I stopped for a second and thought about it. It's a lot like Sam... She adds layers of distraction to herself.

I start to get up, but she stops me. "Stay. Sleep. I have to finish a project anyways." She gives me a warm smile and I would protest but exhaustion gets to me and I decide perhaps it isn't a bad idea. She stands up and heads to my room which I can tell is my room because the crooked door gives her problem and she jiggles the handle a little and when she comes back she hands me a pullover hoodie. "I didn't get a chance to do laundry today and your shirt has blood on it." She explains. I didn't need a reason. I am out of it and I'd have put it on anyways. I'm not exactly in my best condition so I sloppily toss my shirt to the side and pull it on as she takes care of the bowl and rag. I pull the hood over my face and rest my cheek against her mattress and splay my legs out as I drape my arms over my face.

I can hear her sigh as she as she rubs my back before her weight on the bed disappears and I hear her sit in her chair in front of a computer. 'I don't care, I don't care, I do not care.' I tell myself in hopes nothing will disturb my dreams nor drag me under the sea and drown me like the previous night. I fell asleep as I heard the music turn off and clothes rustle around.

When I did dream it wasn't like before. I was floating beneath the surface of the water and below in the depths I could see hands reach out to me and voices tell me I didn't deserve to live but I could feel myself mouth back to them that I only did what I had to survive and if I didn't then...Sam and the others would be dead. They kept shouting. I couldn't talk and I couldn't move. I was just a floating body with a soul attached in this water that was slowly turning red. Is this how it's going to be? Me drifting inbetween the grey, red, and blue?