'One day Kim figured she'd be able to open the book of photographs without crying, so she put it in the suitcase. Absently she ripped up a picture from a party she'd attended with Janet. Her friends kept calling her cell phone; they wanted to know what happened. After the shootings her home was a crime scene, which was fine because she never wanted to see it again.

In her desk drawer she found the diary where she'd written about how she wished her mom was dead because then dad could come back and things would be better. "I wonder what I'd wear to her funeral" she'd written after a particularly bad argument. Now, she tore out the pages one by one and shredded them into tiny pieces.

She couldn't erase the words. Every single argument they ever had became a constant source of guilt. In an instant, she wanted to take back anything she'd ever said or thought. Even that time she accidentally saw her mom get out of Phil's car and kiss him goodbye on the cheek, lingering just a little too long. She'd wanted to call her dad, but instead wrote it in her diary, just another entry in a long list of reasons she hated her mom. Feelings she regretted so much they were a physical ache.

She packed what she could and was escorted up to her Aunt Carol's by a police officer.

She stared out the window and thought that she should feel sad about this ending but instead only felt afraid that maybe the danger wasn't over. They drove past her school, her former hang-outs and even the weekend felt like so long ago that Kim was positive it had to have happened to someone else. There was no way that she had been playing chess with her dad less than two days ago.

It wasn't until she stood at the door of her aunt's, her suitcase heavy in one hand, her backpack weighing her down, that the reality began to set in.

Aunt Carol, her mom's older sister, the one who looked enough like her that they were sometimes mistaken for twins, answered the door and Kim dropped the suitcase.

"Kim! What are you doing here?" Aunt Carol asked, looking past her and at the police officer. "Is something…"

Kim could only stare blankly. The police officer came in and gave the bad news. They talked quietly for a few minutes, Kim looked around the living room. She had never been here before. She had no memories associated with this house.

Aunt Carol's face was a mask of grief but she looked over at Kim and nodded.

"Come on Kim, I'll show you the guest room." Aunt Carol said softly, putting her arm around her shoulders and leading her up the stairs. When Kim looked over at her, she saw the tears streaking down her face and her weak attempt at a smile. She looked so much like her mom that she leaned into her and started crying and couldn't stop.

The funeral was a blur of images. Afterwards, she went back to her Aunt's and lay on the bed, unable to move. People were downstairs and she didn't want to see them.

"Aunt Carol," she whispered, her throat sore from crying, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her eyes barely open. Feeling Aunt Carol rubbing her back gently, trying to calm her down, but the guilt couldn't be calmed.

"I know this is difficult for you, honey." Aunt Carol said her own voice choked with tears. Kim knew this was difficult for her, too, but the guilt was a living thing in her body, and she had to get it out somehow.

"I…I wished that was mom dead…" she whispered hoarsely, feeling guiltier than she thought anyone in the entire universe had ever felt. "I killed her, it's my fault…" and she sobbed into Aunt Carol's shoulder and didn't look up.

Aunt Carol only stroked her hair gently and held her tightly. "We all think things we don't mean," she said.

Kim pulled away slightly. "I did more than think it, I wrote it. I wrote it down, I…"

"Kim, I want you listen to me very closely," Aunt Carol said, grasping her shoulders and forcing her to look up into the eyes that were so painfully familiar. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's your dad's. He's the one that caused this, not you." As she spoke, Aunt Carol's expression became harsher. "He's the reason why my baby sister is…"

Instead of sticking up for him, Kim could only remember waiting for her dad and mom to come back and instead seeing paramedics and agents running down the hall. It had been the moment that changed everything in her life. The test she was worried about on Friday, the guy who wasn't calling, the concert her mom said she couldn't go to…all these previously huge concerns were washed away in an instant. Someone was in front of her, she couldn't remember who, and trying to tell her something, then leading her away and she couldn't struggle could barely even make her feet go one in front of another. If the rest of the day hadn't proved it, when she finally heard her dad's voice again, she knew – her days of being a carefree L.A. teen were over.

"I don't want to see him," Kim said seriously. "I can't see him."

"I won't ever make you talk to him," Aunt Carol said, smoothing down her hair. She kissed her forehead. "You don't have to come downstairs."

"Is he here?" Kim asked, surprised to find that she didn't know what she was hoping to hear.

"No, he's not here."

"Does he know I'm here?"

"I don't know," Aunt Carol answered honestly. "I haven't heard from him."

Kim bit her lip and nodded, realizing suddenly he wasn't at the funeral and that he hadn't even tried to contact her.

"Aunt Carol?"

"Yes, Kim?"

Kim shook her head and lay back down. "Nothing,"

"I'll be downstairs if you need me." Aunt Carol whispered, standing up.

Kim closed her eyes and saw the woman she'd spent years taking for granted.

"I'm sorry mom, I'm so sorry…" she screamed, but her mom was already too far away.

In her dream, her dad came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder and she wanted to turn around and hug him and tell him it wasn't his fault. She also wanted to yell at him about how he took her mom away. Instead, she didn't speak and simply walked away.

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