Prologue

Red.

Images flashed across my face, and I stumbled blindly across the field, hands held in front of my face so as to block the scorching sun from view.

Screams tore through my head. Sobs. Cries. Growls. And then the unmistakeable sound of something heavy landing in the water. A loud splash filling the quiet afternoon's sky, and further reminding me of the terrible deed done.

Blood red.

It was everywhere. It stained my fingers and palms. It was buried in my clothes and scenting my body in a metallic flavour. My whole body reeked of the smell, and worst of all was the huge mess of red liquid erratically splashed across my white dress.

My legs raced beneath me, my hands blindly thrashing at the branches that came my way, slapping me across the face and further inflicting pain on me. Blood trickled down my cheek, and a nasty gash on my neck needed looking into. My hair was wild and unruly, the tangled mess clumped together where water and blood had mixed.

A house. My house. I was there. I had made it home.

Thank God!

Fragments of images jerked into my head, and I forgot which way I was going. All I knew was that I was in a small room, water was running, and my hands were cold and wet.

I snapped out of my trance long enough to realise I was anxiously cleaning my hands of the red liquid. It streamed off my hands like a gooey mess, and every ounce of blood that washed away was another memory gone as well.

But the dress. The stains wouldn't come out! Why wouldn't they come out?

No matter how hard I attempted to wash the blood out, it wouldn't remove itself. Tears blurred my vision as I attempted to rid myself of the smell and blood, and I sniffed in horror. My hands shook uncontrollably, and I collapsed to the floor, the dress hanging in tatters before me.

Why wouldn't the blood come out?

Why wouldn't the images go?

What had I done?

"Kiera!" I yelled, expecting a response almost immediately, and yet receiving none. "Kiera!"

More tears fell down my cheeks, and I hugged my knees to my chest, knowing what I had done, and feeling guilty about it all the same. I should have killed myself. I should have ended my suffering rather than hers.

Why had she not responded?

Where was she?

Screams. Blood. Pain. Anger. More screams. Sobs. Pleas. And a final splash to conclude that afternoon.

My hands came shakily up to my face, and I gaped at the red stains still on my hands. They were permanently there - reminding me of what I had unintentionally done. But she had made me! She had angered and scared me; talking about nonsense and things that altogether frightened me.

Why had she needed the necklace?

I stared down at the piece of jewellery I held victoriously in the palm of my hand, and knew beyond a doubt that my sister would have fought to the death for this small, innocent object. And she had.

My God - she had...

Reviews

[The Invisible Girl]

Really good! Captured my attention in just the first paragraph.

[Ms_Sassypants]

I love this intro! Very well written! The imagery and description hooked me. I'm definitely reading more....