Perfect *UNDER CONSTRUCTION*

Chapter Six: Awkward Moments Of Trust

I didn't know what to say. I was frozen with shock. I felt horrible.

Her eyes stayed clear, but she got up and walked to the closet. I watched as she disappeared into the darkness of it. When she came back out, she held a box. It was cardboard, like the rest of them, but it hadn't been opened like the others. It had green duct tape all around it, keeping it closed and decorated at the same time. She set it on the bed.

"The scratches on my leg aren't new." She put her hands on the top of the box. I stood up. My legs had started cramping and screamed in relief when I wasn't squating anymore. "They just don't seem to be healing." She shook her head. "The scratches on my arm I got the day we moved. My brother smashed all of the rest of my furniture that day and one of the pieces flew at me."

"Oh," I said. I had to say something. I still wanted to smack myself because it seemed so stupid. She nodded. Hate was still in her eyes, but there was also sadness. I should've tried to say something else, though, not 'oh'.

"He tried to kill me, too." She looked at me. "Not right away, but he did, after Mom."

I stood there, the horrible feeling intensifying. "How-"

"He shot my mom. Tried to stab me." She went back into her closet and then came back out with a pocket knife. She slit the duct tape and snapped it closed. She shook her head again.

"I'm sorry." I said. I walked around the bed and hugged her. She hugged me back, putting her face in my chest. "I'm really really sorry." I kissed the top of her head and she looked up at me.

"It's not your fault. You can't help it."

"I wish I could."

"No one can." She looked back at the box. "You know, the last time I saw my mom, she was getting in her car. She was just going to the store for groceries. I had gone to take a nap. I woke up and her car was back but she wasn't." She turned away from me and opened the box. I looked inside it.

It was filled with random stuff. She reached in and pulled out a photo album. She turned it to the last page. There was a cut out of an obituary.

The woman in the picture looked a lot like Brianna, same soft nose and slightly puffed cheeks, shorter hair, though. The picture was black and white. The name underneath the picture had been sharpied out.

"Is that her?"

"We were in a fight when he killed her. She had called me a selfish brat because I didn't want to do whatever it was she wanted to do." Tears welled in her eyes. Her voice broke. "I-it was stupid. I just should've...."

I hugged her and she hugged me back. "It's okay, Brianna. It's okay." I rubbed her back. I knew she was crying, I could feel my shirt soaking up her tears. She pulled way and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "It isn't your fault."

She looked at the picture again then slammed the book closed. "I've got an idea," She said. Her eyes were clear and bright. Slightly red from crying, but still bright. Her sadness seemed to clear up almost right away.

"What is it?"

She reached into the box again and fished out a camera. "I want to make another photo album," She said. "Of me and my friends in Texas. To prove that I can have fun after a tragedy."

I nodded and smiled at her. "That's a good idea," I said.

"Great." She took a picture, the flash temporarily blinding me. "You'll make the first page." She laughed and I grabbed at her.

"Gimme that." I smiled.

"No." She jumped backwards, just out of my reach.

I rubbed my eyes and took a step, grabbing at the camera again.