Blood is covering my hands... red, red, red. Blood splatters cover Colton's shirt. Everything seems to go in slow motion as the man falls to the floor with a thud. My hands shake as I look at them, the blood forever staining my skin and my memory. I killed someone... I killed someone. What have I done? What have I done? That person was a son, maybe a brother, someone's boyfriend or husband and I have just killed them. I can imagine his mother's and father's cries as they are told that a monster killed their child and my body feels like shutting down at the image.

I stand there, just staring at his lifeless body, for god knows how long. The only thing that gets me to walk away is the sound of more people and more gunshots. My breathing becomes shallow as I force my legs to move down the corridor.

I have no clue where I am going and I have no clue where Colton is.

"Drop the gun!" someone shouts from behind me and I freeze. "Put your hands where I can see them and drop the gun!" I turn around, ever so slowly, so that I am facing them and I place the gun on the floor before holding up my crimson-stained hands in surrender. The persons presses their gun against my forehead and I want nothing more than for them to just shoot... stop with the fanatics and just shoot.

"Why do you want me?" my voice is shaky and my knees feel like they are going to buckle any second.

"Why do we want you? Isn't it obvious... you're the lead commander's daughter. When we take you hostage or kill you - either one. The lead commander, your father, will have no choice but to surrender to get his little girl back," they laugh a sickly laugh and I'm actually baffled as to how wrong they are.

"You actually think that if you kill me or take me hostage my father will actually care?" I laugh and they fall silent. "You'd be doing him a favour in getting rid of me, I won't be a problem anymore. He'll probably thank you... never in a millions years would he surrender for me," they have really screwed up haven't they.

"What do yo-" blood splatters everywhere - over my face, my body, Colton's shirt, the floor, the walls. They drop straight to the floor - a bullet in the side of their head. I look to my left to see who shot them but I don't see anyone. Another person is dead, they are dead.

Tearing my eyes away from their body, I waste no time in running down the corridor and opening the first door I see.

My shaky hands pull down the handle and I throw myself inside before slamming the door shut and locking it. It's a tiny storage room filled with random things and cleaning products. I slide down to the floor, bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in my bloodied hands.

Begging for the images to stop, for the guilt to calm, for my mind to slow.

For this regret and remorse to stop it's mission to slowly kill me from the inside out.

***

I don't how long I have been in this room but time seems to have slown as a whole, if not stopped completely. I reach for the lock on the door, slowly twisting it, then hesitantly pull down the door handle. The door opens and I peer out, checking if anyone is in the corridor.

After seeing no one, I force myself to stand and venture down the empty corridor. It feels like it's been an eternity since I was asleep in Colton's room... what would have happened if I was by myself and I had decided to go back to my room? I shake my head, convincing myself to stop thinking about the what ifs.

I walk down the corridor and my whole body feels numb - mind and soul. The images keep replaying and replaying in my head and they won't stop. They are relentless and will do anything to remind me of what I have done.

I look up and my eyes meet his. I have never been so relieved to see someone in my whole entire life. He's okay... he's okay. I force myself to run to him and wrap my arms around him.

"Zach," I say breathless. "You're okay," I cry and he hugs me tightly. I sob into the crook of his neck and I never want to let him go.

"Everything is okay... you're okay Rose," Zach cooes and I want to laugh at the irony of him comforting me after I have just killed someone.

"It's... it's not," I cry and he pulls back so he can look at me. Zach's eyes search me from head to toe. His eyes specifically widening when he sees the bloodied shirt and my hands that are crusted with blood that quite clearly isn't mine.

"Are you hurt?" he asks frantically and I shake my head.

Not physically but mentally I am screwed up beyond repair.

The images won't stop. All of a sudden I am back in the corridor again and the guy has me pushed up against the wall. I can't stop myself, I can't control what I am doing. I shoot him and I watch him fall to the floor all over again.

Why is it affecting me this much? Why can't I just forget about it?

"Rose," Zach says firmly and I can feel the sick rising in my throat. I look around frantically until I find a bin. As soon as I grip the edges of the bin, it feels like everything in my stomach is being lurched out of me. I hold both sides of the opening, trying to keep my balance.

Zach comes up behind me, holds my hair back and asks what happened.

"I..." I am sick again, unable to get the words out. Once my stomach has stopped turning and threatening to spill its contents, I tell him. "I killed someone," as soon as the words leave my mouth in a hushed manor, it finally hits me.

Before it felt like a dream, like it didn't really happen and it was just a figment of my imagination but now... it feels all too real.

***

As soon as I got back to my room I took a long shower, trying to cleanse my skin from everything that has happened. As if I can wash away everything I have done, along with the memory of doing it. If only things were that easy.

Zach told me that a lot of people got seriously injured but luckily we hadn't faced many fatalities. They managed to fight off the rebels and the rest surrendered. My father is coming to talk to the facility today and I am expected to go but I won't. I won't face that man, not today, not after everything that has happened, everything that I have done. I can't.

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, only in my towel, and I can't stop the images. No matter how hard I try, not matter how hard I try to convince myself that it wasn't real... I keep remembering that it was. It was real and it's never going away.

Someone walks in and I slowly look up to see who it is. Colton. He looks at me like I have grown two heads. I can't imagine why... maybe it's because I look like I have been dragged through hell itself or maybe it's because my bags are the most prominent they have ever been.

"So you couldn't come and find me to tell me that they hadn't taken you?" Colton bursts with anger but I can't find it in myself to care anymore. The desire to fire back with something sarcastic or shout at him has completely dissipated from my mind.

"I... was... busy" I sigh. I'm not in the mood for conversation - especially with Colton. I just want to got to sleep and wake up in a hundred years time when hopefully things wouldn't hurt so badly.

"You was busy? Busy doing what, hm?" he shouts and I wish he would just go away. Please go away... please. I feel immovable - like if I just stay here and don't move, time will stop. Time will stop and I can sort everything out in my head and then I can return to the world again.

The usual flow of warmth that runs through my veins has been replaced by ice. Pure, cold ice.

"Stuff..." I whisper and Colton gets even more angry - if that's even possible. He lurches towards me and pushes me back into the bed by my neck. I clamp my hand around the top of my towel like my life depends on it.

"I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me why you were so busy," Colton's eyes turn dark. The first time I saw those beautiful emerald green eyes of his, I had thought they looked kind... innocent even. But now when I look at them, I see nothing but the awful things they have done to me and still continue to do.

"I... I killed someone," I whisper and hope that the rage that fills his eyes will turn kind. That he'll comfort me and tell me everything will be okay and that it wasn't my fault... but they don't.

"Okay, and?" he asks confused. The wind feels like it has been knocked out of me.

How could someone be so...

"What do you mean and?" I can feel my eyes starting to well up but I refuse to cry in front of him. I would rather die than ever cry in front of Colton Grey. I try to pull his hand off of my neck but he doesn't budge. "Get off of me," I hit his arm but he doesn't listen.

"You need to grow up and come to grips with it because you are going to be killing a lot more people. So I suggest you stop acting like this is the end of the world and get your crap together," he spits and I have to bite my lip to stop the tears from falling.

"I hate you" my voice breaks and I can't stop the tear from falling down the side of my face. I silently plea for his eyes to show some emotion... anything that proves he is human but his eyes stay cold and empty.

"And I you, love" he releases my neck from his grip before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

The pure hatred that runs through my veins for this one person is imeasurable, insurmountable. It frightens the hell out of me - how deeply my resentment for him is rooted.

***

Dinner comes around and I have to prepare myself to walk into the cafeteria and probably have everyone's eyes on me as I walk in. I am pacing outside of the door, trying anything to procrastinate and not think about the disgusted stares I am about to receive. They all probably hate me - the rebels came here for me, so ultimately everything that happened and all the people that got hurt was because of me.

I have to go in, I can't stand out here forever... well I can or I can just go back to my room but then I'll have to starve and I'm already hungry. I walk straight through the doors and don't give it another thought. My eyes are practically glued to the floor and I decide that going hungry was probably the best possible thing and question why I thought coming in here and facing everyone so soon would be a good idea.

I slowly look up, expecting everyone to be disgusted by the sight of me, but notice that no one even cares that I am here. No one gives a flying crap - despite the chaos that went on this morning, they are all laughing together and are happy - as if nothing ever happened. How?

After getting my food, I go to the furthest possible corner of the cafeteria, away from everyone else, and sit there to have myself a pity party. I hate to admit it but Colton was right, as much as it pains me to agree, I do need to grow up. That image will never go away and no amount of tears and self pity can change the past. I just need to face it and move on before it consumes me.

I stab at the vegetables on my plate - glad that I can spend time by myself. I'm over the moon that Zach is here but I love spending time alone every once in a while. Those times when I am by myself, I can think without disruption and I don't have to be anyone.

I don't feel obligated to do anything and I can just be alone.