I really suck at titles.

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Errrr, so this only took 6 months to post another chapter.... whoops.

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Caitlyn cautiously picks up the photo of her family, the one covered in scratches. She delicately trails her finger over the longest, most prominent cuts. Whenever she would feel sad, just looking at her family's scarred faces would put a devilish smile on her lips. She nostalgically holds the photo to her chest, and then brings it to her mouth, lightly kissing it. One last bit of affection before end.

She walks over to her bed side table, and fumbles in the draw for a few seconds until her hand clasps what she's been searching for. She takes out the box of matches and shakes it, it still sounds like there's one or two left in there. She can't even remember why she has the matches anymore, it's not like she ever smoked or took drugs. She's just used to opening her draw and seeing the box in there, never before questioning their existence.

She sits back down next to the picture, and opens the box. There are three matches inside, she grabs one and firmly strikes it across the side of the box, a bright spark and then suddenly a dull flame. She brings the corner of the photo towards the fire but abruptly stops herself before going in for the burn. Logic sets in. What is she going to do with a burning piece of paper in her hand? Caitlyn quickly blows out the match and composes herself.

She casually walks out of her room, across the hall, into the bathroom, the box of matches and picture in hand. Caitlyn shuts and locks the door behind her; finally she can just set this thing on fire. She makes sure the shower floor is dry before placing the photo on it. Pulling out another match she goes to light it, but it snaps in half and falls to the white floor, this sudden snapping catches Caitlyn off guard and the box containing the last match follows the broken one.

Caitlyn leans down and picks up the broken match and the almost empty box. Remembering the last time she was on that floor, crying and shaking with fever and guilt. She snaps the thought out of her mind and stands, flicking the broken match down the drain in the vanity sink. 'Third time's a charm' she hopes and she attempts to light the remaining match. She hears the familiar hiss and knows this one has lit.

Caitlyn places the match onto the middle of the picture, directly on her face, and slowly watches the flames work their way to the edges of the rectangle, until all that's left is the ash. Turning the shower on, Caitlyn watches intently as the grey soot swirls elegantly down the drain, as if it were never there. Shutting of the tap and feeling like a weight has been lifted off the shoulders she walks out into the hallway. Feeling content.

It was almost picturesque for a small amount of time, she could literally hear birds tweeting, but she could also hear something else, a quite whimpering in fact. She focuses her ears on the noise and deducts that it's coming from downstairs. As she walks down, her father fiercely walks passed her, bumping her shoulder on the way, seemingly ignoring she was even there. Putting her father's rude behaviour to the back of her mind she walks into the kitchen, where the whimpering was loudest.

She stood still in the doorway, staring at her mother's back, watching her shoulder's shake violently up and down. Caitlyn speaks up asking her mother if she's okay, she gets a faint reply told through sobs. Caitlyn almost wants to accept the answer and walk away, scared of what she'll find if she investigates further. Her morale won't let her, she walk to Jane placing a hand on her shoulder, while she flinches under her touch. Spinning her slowly around, Caitlyn's breath catches in her throat and her mouth becomes dry.

Moving her head sideways to try and avoid the sight, but keeping her eyes locked on her mother's Caitlyn’s heart beats faster. Right there, on her Jane's cheek is the making of a nasty bruise while her lip is dripping dark red blood, down her chin, landing on her once pristine white blouse. Caitlyn's hand crunches into a fist, she wants to go right upstairs right now take that gun out of her father's sock draw and make it all right. Logic, for the second time that day bests her.

Caitlyn simply takes her mother in her arms while Jane erratically cries on her daughter’s shoulder. Silent tears role down Caitlyn's face. She knew one day something like this would happen, they were always verbal, it was only a matter of time before he took it to the next level. For now though, Caitlyn would console her mother and fix her up. She would deal with him later.

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