Thank you for the people who reviewed last time. I've rewritten this slightly according to my teachers suggestions and basically adding bits in that i wanted. This is still in the drafting stages so please excuse my poor grammer.

It Takes Time

Staring at the disarray around the room it’s hard to think that the girl standing in the middle of the mess actually belongs there. She’s dressed in neat black clothes, with her long dark hair tied in a messy plait down her back. As she moves about the room she seems listless, she moves pieces of paper from the floor to another part of the floor, not causing more mess but not cleaning it up either. She pauses suddenly and looks up at the battered old clock on the wall, she drops the file of paper she was holding and it scatters everywhere, she looks down at it but somehow she doesn’t seem to see it.

Stepping with soft cautious movements she walks over the piles of clothes, papers and boxes that cover the floor. On her way past she glances at the wallpaper slowly peeling off the walls and sighs softly. She makes her way carefully down the hallway into a kitchen that is piled high with unpacked boxes and unclean dishes. With another soft sigh the girl slowly makes her way to the door and knocks a box slightly, which falls and opens expelling clothes, books and the like everywhere, she doesn’t look behind her, doesn’t stop to pick up the things just dropped, and just slowly makes her way out of the door. It closes with a loud creak which echoes throughout the building.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs she stoops to stroke the snow cat that is sitting watching her. The cat purrs and then twists around and runs paws padding gently on the tiles. The girl stands and brushes her clothes down using soft but precise movements. She pauses when she hears hastening footsteps reverberating down the stairs. She closes her eyes and monitors the menacing footsteps growing in volume, placing a hand on the door she pushes it open and slips out hearing the shout from inside “Your rent is late again!”, pausing outside the she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as if preparing herself for some unseen battle.

The girl wanders into a lively shopping precinct, listening to the sounds of the busy city she hears children squealing, the busy chatter of mothers hurrying through the crowds to grab their laughing children who yell in delight at the attention. Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand she quickens her pace, the memories suddenly pressing against her head. She wouldn’t think about that now, sighing heavily she comes to a stop outside an insignificant sombre café, empty inside and seemingly devoid of all sentient life. The place she had to come to call her home.

Since she’d lost them to the accident... she’d had to move out, this was the only place that had always been there for her. The only place she felt like she was needed, the only place where she could hide away and pretend that these things hadn’t really happened. Sometimes she needed that familiarity just to keep going.

She pushes open the door and heard the faint sound of the bell in the backroom going to the counter and reaching behind it; she found her apron and donned it. Walking carefully she pushes open the back door and slowly walks through to see a old man bent over a desk muttering to himself in exasperation.

“John?” The girl whispers, her voice sounding harsh and unused. “I’m here.”

The old man whirls around and his almost blind, milky white eyes skimmed across her face. “Maria.” He said, “why are you here?”

“To work like I work every Wednesday, don’t be silly John.” tension had crept into her voice.

“I told you yesterday-“

“You didn’t say anything John.” The girl –Maria- cut him off rather nastily. “You must be getting forgetful.” She snapped and walked back into the front of the shop, the echoes of her footfalls heavy, her anger clear. She bent down under the counter and picked up a dirty dish cloth, wiping her hands repeatedly as if removing invisible dirt.

“Maria.”

“I’m busy John; these cups won’t clean them selves.” She snarled her anger still very evident.

“I know it hasn’t been very easy for you since they died. It takes time to get over these things, you haven’t given yourself that Maria, I know you haven’t.”

Maria said nothing but carefully started to clean her hands again. Her eyes focusing anywhere but this old fragile man, he was still alive, why weren’t they?

“Maybe you should take today off.” John sighed almost angrily. “Come back tomorrow or something.”

“I only just got here.” Quite suddenly she seemed to be in tears, “Don’t send me away John…I don’t want to go back there.”

“Maria go home. Get yourself together and come back when you have.”

“John.” She regarded him solemnly for a minute and then slowly took her apron off and placed it on the side. “Please don’t do this John.” Maria whispered softly.

“Get some help Maria.”

Walking slowly Maria left the building trying hard to suppress the memories; the images bombarding her; the pain.

It was all her fault…

Blindly walking Maria crossed a road. Tire’s screeched. Brakes Squealed. People screamed. Maria turned to watch the car come towards her, just like it had done that night…

Next thing she knew she was gazing at the blue sky, watching birds fly past. “Girl are you crazy?” A man yelled, panting heavily. “You just stopped in the middle of the road!” Maria watched him, he must have pushed her out of the way... why would he do that?

Maria pushed herself up, her hands were grazed but it wasn’t very serious, just a slight stinging. She started running, ignoring the people, ignoring the yelling, ignoring everything but the memory…

The crash…the screams…the pain. “They’re not going to make it! The woman’s crushed!” “The kids okay, she should think herself lucky!”

Lucky? Lucky? How could they say she was lucky, she lost them...

Without noticing Maria had dropped to her hands and her knees, her hands were burning now, red… red as her mothers hair that night…she let out a muffled sob.

People walked by ignoring the girl on the ground, her shoulders shaking. She was just another person in pain, she wasn’t their business. It wasn’t their place to care.

Maria watched the slow flow of blood trickle from the scrapes on her hands as she relived that night… the scream of shock and horror, her father whispering “I love you Maria…” Just before she lost him. It was her fault.

She killed them, killed her own parents. If only she hadn’t insisted they drive her to her friends house…it had been raining, gail force winds, yet she still made them take her, it had only been a few months, weeks maybe since she lost them, maybe John was right, maybe she needed more time...but it wouldn’t change anything. The guilt would still be there.

It was her fault.

Maria started when she felt a soft arm wrap around her shaking shoulders. “Come on honey.” A kindly voice whispered, “Let’s get you inside.”