The next day was noticeably gloomier. The weather paired up with our hearts and we were left grief-stricken. The leaves fell like our hopes. The raindrops were our tears. The thunder, our anger. The rest of the band was called and told what happened. No one knew her as well as I did, yet they were just as mournful. Justice's family was holding a funeral procession at her place in New Jersey. We were all invited to go, but I didn't have the energy or desire to stand on my own two feet. Having a friend wrenched from your hands is never something you get over with. You only adjust.

About a week passed with low activity. As far as we were concerned, we were in danger, especially me, and shouldn't go out too far from home until the dust settled. Not like any of us were in the mood for it anyway. My days morphed into routine: wake up, exist, go to sleep. Maybe eat here and there. The depression was covering me with sand as I sank deeper in the trench.

Yet I wasn't going to let it finish.

I ate more and more every day. My health was increasing with good measures and my sleep patterns were regulating ideally. Angus and his mother had been fighting their own emotional wars, but we always held each other up. Moods of overwhelming sadness would send its fog over our spirits once in a while, but we never lost our path. We refused to.

October 17th 1997

As night fell I put my dinner plate away and headed upstairs to get ready for bed. I was having one of my sad days again. Socializing, even with Angus seemed impossible. As clear and as peaceful as the night sky was, my mind and heart weren't. Before my feet reached the last step, Angus called out to me from the living room. When he didn't continue talking I trudged back downstairs with a sigh.

Around the corner he stood putting his jacket on. "There you are," he said glancing up. I watched him in silence as he fixed his appearance, a slight frown forming on my face. Once again his eyes met mine, but stayed a little longer. "Come on then, love."

I stared at his outstretched hand in confusion. He never told me we were going somewhere. Seconds passed with no interaction.

"I know this is last minute but I thought we might go out somewhere. Ya' know, to get your mind off things." My head turned to the kitchen where Mrs. Young was making more tea. "Just-just the two of us," he mumbled. With one last look of uncertainty, I asked him.

"Where?"

The gravel road crunched mercilessly under our feet in the moonlight. Angus' spare jacket was still too big for me but it kept me warm. Cars came into view parked beside a new, two story building. According to local news it was the grand opening of Melbourne's bookstore, which had been so rapturously pleaded for. "It's good out here, yeah?" Angus asked. I hadn't said a word the entire walk and neither had he. "Can't completely cure ya', but it's a good cope. Better than alcohol I always say," he laughed. I smiled and he grabbed my hand. "Figured this place might be better for ya' anyhow. It's more your speed. More comfortable."

"Thank you, Angus," I said softly. As hard as it was to even physically go anywhere in this time, I knew deep down I had to at least try. Try for myself. For my health and well being. And if I simply couldn't, I'd do it for my loved ones. He smiled, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing it.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Once we got there, a glorious light glazed over my eyes before I blinked it off. It was warm. Aisle after aisle was saturated with visitors; looking, reading, or buying. The horde of people didn't alleviate my sadness but the atmosphere of books gave me a place of home. I belonged here. Angus and I stepped aside from the crowd. "You okay?" he asked. "Ain't too busy for ya'?"

"I don't love it," I admitted. "but I'll be okay."

"I'll bet upstairs is quieter. More..." He motioned with his hand. "Spacious." I shrugged. "You wanna head up there?"

"Are you coming?"

"I don't want to get in your way or nothin'. Know I've been houndin' ya' to stay close by, but I know you won't get hurt in a bookstore. Worst you get is a paper cut." He squeezed my hand and let it go. "I'll stay down here, I'll be alright."

"You're sure?" With a nod for a reply, I turned and walked toward the stairway.

"Hey," he called out behind me. I faced him again. He was smiling with his hands in his pockets. "I love you."

I couldn't help my heart grow warm and cozy. Giving him a small smile back I answered. "Love you too." I turned back around and continued toward the stairs.

The murmur of the crowds was drowned in distance as I stepped onto the second floor. The room was much like our cabin in Ireland with all the wood. My mood was lifted a little, thankful to find some peace and tranquility. Once in a while I'd see someone skim the shelf but all in all it was empty. Relaxing. Almost therapeutic.

I meandered down the aisles one by one. My feet made their way to the classics, where I stayed for more than a moment. After admiring the diverse collection, I checked out the rest of my surroundings.

Books on display like dominoes circumferenced the room. A set of couches relaxed in the corner and were occupied by some content visitors. Box-like computers were stacked on tables ready to help anyone who needed it. One computer was being used by a little girl, no older than six. Her yellow pigtails swung back and forth as she bobbed her head, fingers tracing the keys like a piano. I watched her a bit and smiled to myself. She noticed.

"My nana's teaching me piano," she told me taking her hands off the keys. I walked up to her.

"She is?"

"Yeah. She bought me my own and I'm gonna learn! And I'll be the bestest!" I laughed as she started playing again.

"Be the bestest piano player?" She nodded. "I'll bet you'll be famous one day." She played for a while, most of it unprofessional, but rather cute to watch.

"Do you wanna play hide and seek?" she asked with expressive eyes.

"Uh, I don't know. Do you know where your parents are?"

"They're downstairs," she said playing with her hair. "I'll hide and you can count."

"Wait a minute," I said holding a hand up. "Do they know you're up here?" She shrugged, then nodded.

"They let me play on these." Her fingers once again pressed down on the computer, which was luckily turned off. "So can you play?"

"The piano?"

"No! Hide and seek!" She gave me a pleading smile.

"Well I want to make sure it's okay with your parents," I protested. The little girl grabbed my hand.

"They won't mind, come on." She pulled me over to an aisle and I kneeled to her level. A few games couldn't hurt, right? "My name's Chrissy."

"Hannah." I held my hand out and she shook it.

"You count to ten, no peeking!" Closing my eyes, I felt her presence leave, and I counted to ten. As expected, she was gone when I finished. I restored my standing position and began my search. Taking notice of the readers on the couches, I held cautious steps. Every aisle I passed showed no signs of Chrissy. Taking too long might result in a lost child and worried parents. And I would be responsible.

After a few minutes of fruitless searching I heard a giggle behind me. Spinning around, I playfully grabbed her and tickled her. Her laughing was criteria to calm down. Chrissy asked that we play again and I reluctantly agreed. Truth be told, it was fun playing with her, and I was slowly getting happier. My mind wasn't ruminating over the past events, and I felt better. Not perfect, but better. Even without a fondness of children, I had fun with Chrissy.

One game, soon to be our last, was abruptly cut. A shrill scream pierced the air, and I made my way past the growing crowd of people. The scream had raised more heads than mine and I wanted to get there first. Right by the back bookshelf, was Chrissy; trapped in the arms of the one and only Mike Wanson.

All happiness had flushed out of my cheeks. Fear swam to the surface, not only for myself but for the helpless child with his hand over her mouth and a lighter to her face. His own face was psychotic. Bloodshot eyes, grey sunken skin. Numerous scars and scratches covered him along with a particular bruise under his right eye. The hands holding Chrissy hostage were shaky and a stuttered laugh came from his throat. The lighter was three inches from Chrissy's face. One more step from me and she'd get hurt.

Other witnesses had run to the phones and called the police. Some watched from a safe distance. Chrissy had soaked Mike's hand and what I could see of her face. Instantly a pang of guilt fastened on my heart and soul. My next thought was the well being of Angus. You have to start downstairs to get upstairs.

"You are so fuckin' easy to find," Mike laughed. "But so fuckin' hard to catch. Lucky for me I found some friends of yours instead." The "man" stepped closer to me, backing me up against a bookshelf. "Wish you'd been there. Heard her scream, seen the blood..." The world around me grew distant and my head felt weightless. The sensation was spread to my entire top half. "Could have joined her. Friends forever, right?" A siren blared outside. The crowd's murmur had grown to some shouts. My hand felt the spine of a hardcover book. I gripped it in case. "Looks like crybaby here'll have to take the fall for you. As a matter of fact..." A smile played at his lips. "Angus already has."

Out of sheer panic I tossed the book in my grip at him. It hardly hit him and he threw Chrissy aside. While I ran to grab her Mike stuck his lighter by the books. The whole shelf ignited. Chrissy had escaped the room and the crowd of witnesses had left too. The peaceful atmosphere had been ripped away by chaos. My feet made their way after the group but Mike pushed me to the ground. Within seconds he had half the upstairs burning. A bookshelf toppled down destroying any means of an exit. Glass from the window behind me was soon enough by my side, each piece glinting in the flames. Mike was gone.

Smoke coated my lungs and each scream was turned into a cough. Crawling on my knees was the only way to breath decent air. The horizontal bookshelf harbored some favorable conditions yet I couldn't make my way over. Fire was a fear of mine. Raw fear took over my body and I couldn't move. One hand burned, the other bloody from the glass. No one knew I was up here.

The minutes had grown quickly dull as Angus wandered downstairs. He headed up to the second floor as police surrounded the building. Swarms of people flew down the steps yet Hannah wasn't one of them. Asking them did no good and soon enough the whole building had evacuated. Possibly a stupid idea, he made his way upstairs.

The first thing he did was cough. The smoke was smothering, even for him. Hannah was on her hands and knees, head down, shaking. One call of her name was all it took.

"Hey, you okay?" Angus stood her up and pulled her in for a hug. "Come on, it's gonna be okay. I've got ya', just look at me. Breathe into me." He backed them up against the railing by the exit. "They're comin', they're comin'."

Flames forced them to the smallest distance from the rail. Angus glanced behind him and blinked roughly. The ground was too far away for his comfort. "You'll be okay...we'll be okay just don't...look...down..." Both of them were faced with their worst fears. Each of their own and one they shared: losing the life of the other one. Hannah had her head buried into him and all Angus could do was hold her. The way he came in had been blocked off by smoke and crawling over the bookshelf would saturate their lungs with it. They were trapped.

The dark blue sky was licked by the red flames, dimming the stars in comparison. What was once a new bookstore had been turned into an inferno clouded by thick, piceous smoke. It was a living, breathing hell.

Angus' heart beat rapidly against my ear. Mine had been erratic too. My legs were like iron rods. Anyone talking to me would echo into nothing and my vision was fading. Daring to glance over Angus' shoulder I could faintly see dark figures moving below the railing. With one last hope of escape, I took a book from our sanctuary and pushed it over the edge. My blood had smeared itself on the cover. I buried my face where it was safe and a dark sleep came over me.