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The shopping cart wheel is stuck. When I turn around, I bump into Chase and find myself gazing down into his cart. He’s got a white sympathy card and a bouquet of small lilies and baby's breath.

“Uh, um, well, hi,” he stammers.

I close my eyes and nod to acknowledge him. I know what he did to my best friend.

“I want to talk to you, actually,” he whispers.

I watch tears surface in his eyes. I watch him struggle to hold them back, because brown-eyed, brown-haired men don’t cry.

In broken fragments, he is able to choke out a sentence.

“She, she, she’s g-gone, Kaiya. Sh-she’s dead.”

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It happened again tonight. The sound, loud and terrible, shook my entire room until I awoke. The first sensation I processed was the thin film of sweat covering my skin. Despite being drenched in sweat, my entire body felt as if it was submerged in ice. The sound continued to groan in my ears and rattled around in my brain like pebbles in a glass jar. The noise sounded almost like the pipes in the walls, moaning and creaking under the pressure of the building’s needs, but no. It was much too loud to be that. I thought to myself, How can no one else be complaining about this? As I covered my ears I glanced at the data screen on the wall across from my bed as it displayed an “error” message.

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October 13th, 1999
He refused to listen. He saw the quiver of my lips, he saw my eyes turn into flowing rivers. Julian saw my teeth chatter like a child shivering outside in the cold. He wouldn’t listen to me. Valerie had the same look on her face as I do now, the same look she had burned on her face for the past 3 years. My sister watch me get on the sobriety train months ago while Julian sat at the station. He stays repressing the idea that he is worn down version of himself. Now all I can do is watch him slowly kill himself, refusing to get sober. Unwilling to be better for himself.
I’m 11 months sober today.

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There was nothing that Willow could do to stop her parents from packing up her life and loading it into the back of the moving van, as if it were any other box of junk that they would unpack in Oregon. Sat on the front porch, she watched as each box and piece of furniture hovered out of the house and joined her life in the van. She couldn't bear to see her parents, she could only hear their murmurs and the sound of the steps creaking  as their invisible figures passed her.
"You ready, Freddy?" her dad asked her as he closed the trunk to his car. Her parents were suddenly visible again, but Willow had immediately remembered why she was blocking them out when she saw the guilt in their eyes. They hated to take her away from all that she had ever known and loved, but the job opportunity that her dad received was too great to turn down. He would be promoted to salesman, instead of working in the lumberyard. Willow knew that with her dad's health and age, she could never ask him to stay in Wisconsin. She nodded to her dad before hopping in the car with her mom, while her dad got in the van. They waved each other goodbye before embarking on the thirty hour drive.
"Just think of it like a road trip!" her mom suggested, gently patting on Willow's knee. At first, she smiled at the thought, but then she realized something else.
"It's not much of a road trip if we aren't coming back."

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The ceiling had become dull to her . Stains that, at first, felt out of place against the ivory paint strokes have now intertwined themself despite the difference in hues. The bed dipped beneath her, holding the weight of whatever conflicts she had battling within her. The only sound that could be heard was the one of her breath and the bathroom sink she had left dripping but didn't care to turn off.

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There's something reckless about the flurries coming from the sky, something so reckless she wanted to take her own life every time they fell.  One thing for sure, she hated winter, but Stevie was good at putting a smile on her face during any season. Though the smile would leave quickly once it was her, her journal, and the ice cold snow. Her whole life there was something about winter that haunted her, maybe it was the feeling of the piercing crisp air that would seep inside of her, or maybe it was how her first boyfriend violated her in the white snow, but in that moment all she could see was red. Or maybe just maybe it was how last winter her best friend overdosed on laced pills, that she constantly asked Deliah not to take.

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“All hands on deck. Let’s go!”

My eyes open faintly; beyond confused with what just happened. Red and blue lights shine harshly in my face causing me to struggle to keep my eyes open. The whole world is flipped on its side, and I continue to be yelled at to stay awake.

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In the graveyard at night, still and silence settles over the land. As the sunlight fades, not a breath or sound floats through the air. Statues dot the fields between the looming pillars and the twin towering gates. The gates creaked open as a lone ballerina walks through. She stands out among the dark environment- she is the only thing that moves.

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The front shopping cart wheel is stuck. I use all my strength to try to wheel the cart back around. I only get halfway before I bump into Chase.

Wow.

I didn’t realize how much I didn’t want to see him. I look into his cart. He’s got a white sympathy card and a bouquet of small lilies and baby's breath.

“Uh, um, well, hi,” he stammers.

I close my eyes and nod to acknowledge him, but I don’t want to speak. I know what he did to my best friend.

“I want to talk to you, actually,” he whispers. I watch tears surface in his eyes. I watch him struggle to hold them back, because brown-eyed, brown-haired men don’t cry.

In broken fragments, he is able to choke out a sentence.

“She, she, she’s g-gone, Kaiya. Sh-she’s dead.”

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The holding cell always had different people in it. A man slouched over on the bench, taking over all the space, a woman banging on the bars, rows of people lining down the walls. They all look soulless and crazy. There's no reason she should be here. She was Elizabeth Carols best friend…why would she murder her. Saturday 15 10:42 pm, Katelyn Mora was cleaning up dishes that had been piling up, she had her phone on the dining table right behind her. Part of her was hoping that Elizabeth would call. It had been 1 month and 3 weeks since anyone had seen or heard from her and at this point Kate's faith was bleeding out. The crew putting out missing posters were going to turn into crews looking through the forest for her body, her studio apartment 2 blocks down was going to be cleared out and cleaned. From missing to forgotten. BANG BANG BANG!  “It was 10:50, the time where everyone allows themselves to be alone and think, was this her murderer coming for Kate next? She plopped the plate down and quietly grabbed a knife heading towards the door. BANG BANG BANG. Opening the door she was grabbed immediately and swished around. “Sheriff's department.”

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Hi, my name is Harley Rose Karter. Ok so where do i start. I'm a 18 year old girl, I have brown hair, blue eyes and I'm about 5 '2. To tell you a little about myself, my favorite things are my bog cricket, my boyfriend Ezra and my best friend liv.

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I am an independent woman. I knew what I wanted to do from the moment I could talk, I wanted to write and I wanted to help people. However I knew more about reading and writing than anything else, I had been reading romance books for as long as I could remember. That led me down a path to become an author. Originally I never wanted to write books. I thought it was too difficult and I would be broke most of my life. For the most part I was right.