fireflywinks
"Liz!" The panic filled voice sounded familiar, yet far away. I smiled sleepily. Just another one of those dream voices talking to me, I supposed. But then the voice cried out my name again, closer this time. I tried to open my eyes but my lids were heavy. I tried to sit up, grabbing the cold metal bench I was lying on for support. I groaned, louder than I had intended, when I realized there was a pain in the back of my head. I put my hand there, not feeling my normally silky smooth hair. Instead, it felt sticky and hard, like I had too much hairspray applied. That was funny, I thought to myself, pulling my hand back. I never wore hairspray. Suddenly, I stopped moving. The scent of blood, both fresh and old, filled my nostrils. I gulped. Blood had always made me uneasy. I closed my hand, pressing the tips of my fingers to my palm, and felt a wetness. I forced myself to open one eye, and squeamishly squeezed it shut again after getting a glimpse of what was on my hand.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Yes?" I squeaked, still disgusted by what was all over my hand. "Oh my god. Guys, it's her!" Relief washed over the voice which had just spoken, the same one which had been filled with panic minutes before. Suddenly I felt a cool breath just above my left ear. "You better be careful, Elizabeth Sutton. One more crazy night out at the pub, and the next time someone has to come looking for you, you won't be alive to hear their calls." The voice left my ear. "Yes officers, she's right here."
I pressed the accordion's keys merrily, stomping my feet to go along with the beat. The party was getting rowdy, and so was my playing. I smiled secretly to myself. If only they knew.
I sat upon our old bench. I fingered the worn wood softly. This one bench held so many memories. A tear dropped from my eye, warping the wood. I wiped my eyes. No more crying. It was time to move on.