Dead Girls & A Broken Heart ***EDITING MAJORLY***

Dead Girls & A Broken Heart - Chp 11

It's not so important who starts the game but who finishes it. -- John Wooden

I was lucky Sunday’s weather was relaxed and nothing but warm and sunny, the wind lapped at your cheek blades leaving a tingling feel as your hair tickled your face. After yesterday spending all indoors, finishing my book and having the sudden ache to clear my mind and be creative I grabbed my camera and slid out the front door. I was smiling and I knew why yet I knew why I should not.

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I inhaled a deep and sharp breath as I resurfaced to reality, my heart skitters and sweat beaded across my body. The hairs on my neck raised and my breathing was anything but normal. It was as if I had resurfaced from water after nearly drowning. I felt like I had been drowning. My temples were throbbing as I sat up more from where I had dozed off.

I was sitting on the stands at the football field; I’d dozed off with the sun warming me and the breeze soothing me. I placed my hands over my heart as I swung my legs off the bench; I was on the bottom bench, my shoes glided over the top of bladed grass.

It was so vivid. The same dream as always. I wanted the dreams to be gone, to let me sleep without the haunting images and memories. Yet I knew deep down I could not avoid them, they’d become a concrete part of my life. Erin had soothed me saying that in reality my bad memories will always be there but I had to find a way to move on and become happy again so that’d I could deal with them and then they’d begin to fade.

Move on. I knew I couldn’t move and forget. Especially being a suspect in the slightest and also a victim. What was worse was the danger and fear I felt knowing that messed up person was still walking, maybe even strutting, about feeling happy and free. Invincible. That person made me sick, there were no words that described such a person. That person made me mad. I wanted to bring them down for all the pain they’d inflicted on the people around me, including myself. But who was it? Who was as sick and morbid to do such a deed?

I sighed my hands curling around the edge of the bench my feet ceasing to dance as I looked down at the ground in deep thought, my brows furrowed harshly. It just didn’t add up, and yet what was worse was the lack of progress by the Police. I didn’t want to think badly of them yet it was impossible not to, especially in my situation.

To think that creep was still out there taking advantage of other girls….

My skin grew taught and white as my grip tightened. I was furious and I felt useless. My brows furrowed in thought. I could help though. I could snoop or at least roam for ideas. Sgt. Patterson told me to call if I needed anything or even if I thought of something… I bit my bottom lip. Yet they weren’t to know if I snuck about a bit.

This was my game, and it was my turn to roll the dice.

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“I can’t believe that stupid freakin’ slut!” Gabs ranted the heat spreading to her face dangerously as she paced sharply in front of me on the schools lawn Monday

I sat waiting patiently for an explanation and for the millionth time asked “Who’s the slut?”

Her paces steps were falling shorter and soon she was spinning in rough sharp circles. It was becoming quite amusing yet Gabs temper caused an overwhelming amount of fear and anxiety towards me, sure she got mad, but this…. This was scary. Gab heaved a deep ragged sigh. On queue she took the elastic from her hair shook out her heavy locks and pulled it toughly back up into her ponytail. All in a quick fluid motion. It was a habit of hers when frustrate and or mad.