Teardrop

Chapter one

Chapter one

Sarah

In the small beige room Sarah flipped the worn bent page of her novel.
She loved reading, books abled Sarah to go to other worlds without leaving the room
or the prison she was in. She had probably read more books than anyone.
When she was in the place books were all she had. She swore to always hold onto books.

Across the room a doorknob turned.
The door whined open reavealing a small fragile preety looking women.
With dark hair streaked with grey, and purple sticky lips.
She wore a frilly pink blouse, and a red checked knee length skirt making her eyes hurt from the explosion of colours she wore. Her fine dark grey Straker hair was up in a tight bun that looked as if it might hurt her.

The therapist kind amber brown eyes looked at her expertly.
"Sarah how are you", her voice was soft and velvet smooth.
On a neat white dressing drawer against the clean white wall on the left side of the room
was a fish tank with a few golf fish swimming hazily around.

Sarah looked up at her therapist wishing she was anywhere but here.
Of course she had promised her dad that she would go to therapy so she wouldn't have to keep going to that place. Her dad kind and nice. But too protective.

Sarah Suked her check. A silly habit she had.
"Hi", she said quietly.
Since her dads remarriage a year ago and her mums death Sarah had barely survived many therapists one after another.
A life ruled by adults who could not agree on anything Sarah thought it made everything more messier. Sarah thought of the wife dad married the heavily lidded Spanish women with dark curly hair and large green eyes flecked with gold and thick black eyebrows.

Sarah noted her therapist new black ballet slip one's.
All therapists had diffrent shoes most days as if it would calm people down.
The shoe method Sarah called it.

The office was calming a long grey Couch with posh red pillows and a wooden small table with chairs a glass domes box with lollipops on that her therapist gave her if she did a good job and a
plug in air conditioner sitting on a neat white desk that leaned against the white wall, the desk had neatly staked square folders on it, and a yellowing paper back novel that Sarah thought must be the book her therapist was reading, on the wall was a oil painting of a stormy day on the beach, with the black foaming waves ranging.

Her therapist crossed her feet looking up at-her waiting.
Waiting for her to spill he'd guts so she could send her back to the place.
She couldn't go back to the place the place.

Past

It was a hot day outside but inside the small clean white room with four walls it was icy cold
the air-conditioner's rattled noisily and Sarah sat crossed leg on the white floor, goosebumps
raised on her arms, she wore all white a white nightgown she was heavily scrubbed each day so her skin was a soft pink, and the red ugly scars that rose from her wrist, jagged against her milky pale skin.

Her breath puffed out in front of her.
Sarah shivered why did it always have to be so cold.
There was nothing on her room only a bed and four white walls.
Sarah knew she was going mad, her head screamed of her mum
and her murder while the killer had tried to get to Sarah while she was hiding
in the gloomy dark cubord, she remembered the dusty mint smell, a dark jumble of shapes
in the cubord. Of course they thought Sarah had done the murder but how could they belive Sarah had killed her mum. Her dad had said Sarah was just unwell. Sarah screamed, silently, she was not unwell.
She saw the dark shape of the killer and in the shadow of his cloak the grey eyes staring coldly at her out of the folds of his cloak.

The camera flickered red it's grey lenses watching Sarah.
In a room above when she had came dragged down by three strong doctors in green s hurts.
There eyes were sympathetic they had gave her kind smiles.
But Sarah knew they were only smiling while her dad watched with tears in his eyes.
"Sarah irs for the best your sick sweetheart".
His words were poison fowl to me. Blamed for a murder I never did.
I took note of the metal prison gate.