I splashed cold water over my steaming face; closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, the whole of reality hit me. She was really dead. My bestfriend was really dead. Did I believe that it was my fault? Yes. How could it not be? I should of moved. Not froze. I looked up into my bathroom mirror. Studying the purple bags that laid under my eyes. My eyes were red and sore from crying, my throat ached... I was a mess.
I opened the bathroom window. Letting the cold air brush across my face. Then retracing my steps back to the mirror, I stood, examining my face... I grabbed my hairbrush that sat nearby, starting to pull out the tangled brown knots which were planted into my hair. With each tug. I thought of Daisy. The fact that she was the biggest sore loser I had ever met. That everytime I had an issue she would tell me.
'Tell me who it is! I'll bat em!'
And it would always make me giggle. The fact that when she needed me most, when she was about to die. I didn't save her.
-She would of saved you-
Those same words spun around in my head. A stone of hurt stuck in my throat. A tear fell from my eye. My face became hot. I remember, the words my own mother told me when she found out.
'You-you-you murderer!'
My own mother called me a murderer... I didn't kill Daisy, but the police didn't believe me, of course, when I was taken to court there was enough evidence to prove me guilty, but not enough to prove me innocent either.
My bottom lip quivered. Whoever that woman was, the female behind the mask is the whole reason I'm here, the whole reason I can't live where I was born and raised, the whole reason I don't have a family...
And whoever she was... Wherever she might be.
I would make her pay.
