There are different kinds of guilt; the kind that drowns you until you feel worthless, and the kind that fires your soul to purpose...
...there's also the kind that cuts through your neck until it feels bone, but by then it's too late to feel anythi...
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ONE YEAR AGO
She couldn't see a thing.
Not one ray of light or sign of form in her line of sight.
Not since the bag was forced over her head. At least she thought it was a bag.
The last thing Grace remembered seeing was her car, just meters away. She was nearly gone, nearly out of this nightmare until she was dragged, or forced, right back into another one. Which was equally as frightening.
Grace was revolted at the fact that they would go through such lengths to torture her. Making fun of her in front of the entire school? She wasn't shocked that they would do that. But kidnapping her? It seemed like one step too far. But it wasn't like she could have done something about it. The bag was forced over her head too quickly.
Grace couldn't even see her own black locks of hair that would sometimes get in her face, or her small pointed nose in front of her. The bag blocked out everything that mattered to her in this moment. Who is doing this to me? Where were they taking me? Am I going to get away?
After she struggled to get away from the person behind her, she found herself being forced into the back of a car, and the cars door slamming shut behind her. She didn't know why, but the sound scared her. It meant that I wasn't getting away.
From underneath the bag, Grace heard the faint sound of laughing. A girl's high-pitched giggle and a guy's low tone. She thought she heard that laugh before. She then heard the sound of whispering, presumably to conceal their identity. The sound would go in and out of Graces hearing capabilities, the silence and the sound of the cars wheels against the road dreading her by the second.
The road suddenly started to feel bumpy, as if the wheels travelled from a smooth cement road and onto a gravelly stony path. Grace then felt the car move downwards, the feeling and momentum of a steep hill.
Then the car came to a halt.
The cars engine was cut, and she heard the sound of car doors opening and closing and opening again. Someone grabbed at her arm and pulled her out of the car. It wasn't as forceful as it was when she was made get into the car, but her arm was still clutched with the sense that the person, or people, didn't want her to get away.
