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Title: Other half

by Vicky from Shropshire | in writing, fiction

Beth gripped her beloved photo album to her chest as the tears streamed down her face, making tracks in her make-up. The memories that book held'the memories of that one special person'the one who meant the world to her'the one that was never coming back. Elliot was gone. That was the reality. How could just one book be all you have left of someone'. someone who you love with every inch of your body Beth sobbed to herself. She felt so alone. She held the book close and embraced it, protecting it with her arms as she drew her knees up to her chest. As she laid her head on the book, memories of laughter, tears and secrets danced around her mind'but that was all gone now, no new memories would be made and her life would never be the same.
'Inseparable' was the word most used to describe Beth and Elliot. Best Friends since the first day of school, they had experienced everything together; make-up, boys, but most of all, they had been there for each other through thick and thin, but now, at the age of 16, Beth faced life alone.
'Your Honour, we find the defendant guilty of all Drink-Driving and manslaughter charges' came the voice of the stocky man behind the wooden stall.
'And the hit and run?' enquired the judge, his white wig slightly off balance.
'Guilty' came the reply.
Beth breathed a sigh of relief; he had got what he deserved. She watched the defendant escorted from where he had been silently sitting. Throughout the whole hearing, Beth had never taken her eyes off him. Her whole body shook with hatred and outrage but above all jealousy. Jealousy that he now faced his life in jail, where the world couldn't get to him, but for Beth, life alone would just be beginning, and she didn't know how she was meant to cope. Beth couldn't fight the feeling of wanting to be locked away. Locked away from the world, from her life, from the loneliness she now faced. That in it's self was a life sentence. She felt the warm and comforting hand of her mother on her shoulder as she stared down at the devoured pieces of tissue lying in her lap, nervously brushing them away until they gently floated down onto the wooden floor of the office-like courtroom. Her hands shook with grief and fear. She felt so weak as she looked around the courthouse. It was nothing like how she had expected. No wooden beams or solid oak benches, just plastic chairs and school-like desks.

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I have a real connection with my best friend. She's my inspiration. We've been inseperable for 12 years.

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