The report from the forensic department felt like a movie rolling before my eyes. I couldn't take off my eyes from every single piece of paper. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, wishing that someone pull me out of it. How could this happen? I had been so certain that she was still alive, but the report proves otherwise. The clothes belong to Isla, the blood was hers.
I pushed the paper aside and picked up the necklace that had been left at the scene of the accident— the one Isla always wore because I had given it to her on her eighteenth birthday. Even when she was all dolled up, she would make sure that necklace never left her neck; it was a symbol of our togetherness, and I had shattered it.
I should have listened. She would still be alive by my side if I had. I should have fou
