First day back at college after 10 glorious weeks of Netflix and junk food. Slouching down in my uncomfortable plastic seat, I look out the window. It hasn't all been fun and games though. I wish it was, although that doesn't change what happened that weekend. The one weekend that took my whole world and shook it up like it was a snow globe. At least the dust is settling but I'll never forget that weekend in Manhattan. It haunts me.

One of the Staff in a skintight blue dress, that sticks to her body like cling film and only serves empathise how similar to a beached whale she looks, walks over and opens the window. She takes no notice of the fact that I'm not even paying the slightest bit of attention to the lecture. My gaze falls on my own face in the window, only visible to me because of the window's new angle. A gentle breeze floats in through the window and blows a few strands of hair across my face. They are brushed back behind my ear as I continue to stare at my reflection.

I'm not exactly beautiful but I fall under the class of pretty. Seemingly pore-less skin covers my face, because I've scrubbed it so much as if trying to was away my sins; green bright eyes shine bright with life, dancing with a secret madness only I can comprehend; brown waves of hair fall round my face, framing it, although my hair looks darker than it used to.

A heavy bag drops to the floor a few rows in front of me. The loud thud echoes slightly and sound takes me back to that night. The laughing and the sound of glasses, we made a toast to Starbucks for supplying me with the coffee that was later spilt on him.

That's how we met, a coffee stained shirt, a pile of papers on the floor and my ability to not look were I was going. Then it all changed. There was a thud. The door being kicked in. Footsteps, getting closer to us. Then a gun shot. I screamed, I remember that part, I screamed loud enough for the neighbours to call the cops. All there was left was a girl crying, a man with a gun who ran away and an ever growing blood pool beneath a man in a coffee stained shirt. I was still crying when the police came charging into the apartment.

I come back from my daydream, my nightmare, to the sound of people talking. The professor asked everyone to share something they did in their summer. Each trying to make theirs sound better than the last without lying or at least making it sound unbelievable. Mountain biking; abseiling; music festival; visited Australia. Only a couple people left before my turn. I am going to have to lie. I'm considering telling the truth. That's not an option. My turn. Everyone is waiting for me to answer. Looking down at my notebook I notice paint splatter tear drops on the page. I wipe away my tears as casually as possible.  Taking a deep breath and putting on my best stage smile I look up, glace around the room briefly and then answer.

"I went to Starbucks"