All I could hear were the siren, but I could see the people speaking in front of me. I could see the sympathy and pity in their eyes as they spoke to me. It was fake. That much was obvious. It was always fake.
Someone's hands were on my shoulders. My feet were moving of their own, clumsily. They were leading me away. Away from the scene, away from the people, away from the stares. Those stares of sympathy. Those stares of pity. Those stares were all fake.
And the hands kept leading me away and I kept stumbling. Why was I such a klutz around all these people? Why was I being stared at again? I suddenly became highly aware of all those stares and all the people they belonged to. I became highly aware of myself. I was stumbling over my feet, my usual clean shoes were coated in mud. My clothes hung limp on me as my shoulders were slumped, my hair was no doubt a frizzy mess. How was my makeup? My face felt tight, I could taste old tears on my lips. I'd been crying and my eyeliner was not waterproof. It was most likely smeared, making me look like a complete mess. And it was all in front of these people. I probably looked like a wreck and it was all in front of these people. I dropped my gaze to the ground, my frizzy hair falling to cover my face.
And the noise hit, time sped up. My knees buckled under me as if the sudden noise had slammed into me from behind. The hands of my leader gripped me tightly, yanking me back to my feet. My shoulders suddenly ached where the hands had gripped me. There were voices everywhere, moving feet, but no sirens. They had been shut off. The voices, they were loud though. High pitched in my ears.
Couldn't they just shut up? Couldn't they just leave all of it alone? The instant anything were to happen, people were suddenly a swarm of flies, covering over you. It was worse when you could see them staring at you though and luckily, I couldn't see their stares. A hand was pushing down on my head, my body lowered itself as I slid into the car, leather seats squelching underneath my bottom. The door was slammed and I jumped, whipping my head around to it. The window was tinted, inside and out. I could only make out the shadow of the person in the outside. No doubt it was the same for them on the other side looking in I could seem reflection though. I indeed was a mess. My hair stood up in strange places, black streaks ran down my cheeks, and my eyes were looking sunk in. Was it me or was the black of the window making my skin turn pale?
No wonder those people were all looking at me. I was a complete wreck. It looked as though I had died. Or was dying. Either way, I looked horrible. Tearing my gaze away from my reflection wasn't hard. What my eyes landed on though, was. My hands and up to my elbows were coated in red my clothes had splotches of the red here and there and one giant splat on my stomach are of my shirt. They were looking at me because of my face or my hair or how I was dead looking. No. They were looking at the red. They were looking at the blood. They knew it wasn't mine. Of course they knew. Everyone always seemed to find these sort of things out when a whisper was spoken.
The ground underneath my feet was moving now. The car was moving. Someone was speaking. To who? My name on the lips. I turned to the voice. A man. Was facing me from the front passenger seat. He was speaking to me.
"Huh?" I asked in confusion.
"We're taking you to the station downtown. We have some questions for you."
"But I didn't do anything."
"It's procedure."
I couldn't say anything this time. My mouth just wouldn't work. I hadn't done anything. But I knew I was about to be blamed for everything.

I looked even worse in the actual mirror. Oh how I looked even worse. I dropped my gaze to the table. It was polished, shining under the fluorescent lights above me. My image shimmered on the surface. A door unlocked and squeaked open. A pair of heavy feet made their way to the chair across mine. I sat back, my nails scraped the wooden top. I looked up as a folder was thrown onto the table.
"You were the only one there. So how are we supposed to believe it wasn't you?" His voice was tired and he looked at me with hallow eyes.
I only stared at him.
He gave me a small, kind smile. Why was he smiling at me? He was questioning me. We were in an interrogating room. Other then what was already wrong with my appearance, was there anything else? Was he smiling because I had something stuck in my teeth? I ran my tongue over my teeth and found nothing. So what was it? Did I stink?
He was seriously making me uncomfortable. Could I get him in troubled for that?
"We know you didn't do anything." He finally said.
Good, so why was I here in this interrogation room? I was innocent, I should've been gone.
"You see, the blood from your father wasn't all his. So we did a test and your DNA did not show up. At all. Whoever did this to your father was cut pretty bad as well. That's why there was another's blood. We'll find the killer, but you have to be patient, alright?"
Who was this guy kidding? What was he telling me all this for? I just didn't care.
"Your going to stay here until your brother comes to get you."
Excuse me? I had only my father as family. This was some joke, right? I sat back fully in my chair, tilting in back onto one leg.
"Are you going to speak?"
Are you going to be quiet? I drew my lips into a smile, not saying a word.
"Of course you aren't." The man stood, gathering his folders, and left the way he had come.
I dropped the chair, feeling it rattle under me, as it clanged on the linoleum floor. I turned my gaze back to the mirror. I could only see myself, but I knew I could be seen front the other side. They were watching me, every little flaw about me. They could see every single wrong with me. I dropped my gaze. Them being able to see me made me sick to my stomach.
In the middle of the table sat an empty notebook, a pen lay atop it.
I reaches forward, dragging the two items back to me.
They were watching me. They were watching every little move I made.
I picked the own up, knowing they were watching.


'She stood in the window, looking down the tower. The drought had killed the grass and made a shimmering heat haze across the ground. She could've been Rapunzel, but her locks weren't right. She could've been Sleeping Beauty, but there was no magical princely to prick her finger on and cast her asleep. She could've been Cinderella, but her shoes were to plain, no glass slippers. She could've been any Princess, but she had no Prince Charming to save her from whatever disastrous date awaited her own date. She was no Princess, but she was stuck in this tower. No key for the locked door, no way down on the outside. She was locked in. And no dragon was guarding her tower. She was forever locked in.


The creaking hinges reached my ears. I slammed the notebook over and looked up. The man was back. He was holding the door open, beckoning me out. The notebook refused to leave my fingers as I followed him out. We went back to the main floor. When we had entered, just hours ago or so it seemed, the lobby area had mostly been empty. Now it seemed packed. A group of teenagers surrounded a tired little woman. A small group of kids no more then the age of eleven sat on benches against the wall, none making a sound. Even though the woman looked exhausted, she was still beautiful. There was not a flaw about her.
I envied her. I wanted to be her. I didn't want to be this ugly looking rag that stood awkwardly in front of this beautiful stranger.
This beautiful stranger who had now spotted me. Spotted the mess that I was.
The teenagers drew from her as she stepped forward. It was as if she was a magical Goddess and the one who departed around her were here soldiers, keeping her safe.
God, she was magnificent.
And she was coming towards me.
And she was smiling kindly at me. At the ugly me.
She stood in front of me now, smiling brilliantly. "Astria."
Oh God, she knew my name.