The rain was pelting down as I raced for the exit. I could feel it trickling down the back of my neck, cold. I shivered, 'Ghost fingers', that's what Caroline used to say. Sighing, I pulled my hood up, and adjusted my bag. Classes were over for me; all I had left were the exams. No pressure then.

In my haste, I slipped as I raced across the bleak car park, and landed with a smack on the bonnet of a battered Fiat. Thankfully the area was clear, and no-one had noticed my blunder, but as I picked my self up, pushed the sodden tangles of my hair out of my eyes, I saw them.

Standing across the road, were a group of men. It was impossible to define their age, because of the huge hooded jumpers and hats to ward off the godforsaken rain, but I could tell they were big, tall and well built. I may not have been the smartest girl in my classes, nonetheless, some strange, sixth sense told me what I already feared. They were here for Caroline.

As the reality dawned, I took a deep breath. Maybe I could double back- warn her. The school had another exit; surely they wouldn't have men at both! However, even as this plan formed in my head, the bells rang out- signalling the end of the day, and the beginning of Caroline's execution. The doors flew open, and the students streamed out, laughing and joking. As they moved across the car park, they seemed to become one being. A huge coiling python, sliding toward the gate, towards freedom.

Suddenly I saw her, my sister had always been one to stand out in a crowd. Yet even as I looked at her, my heart sank. She looked a mess.

The soft cascade of golden hair, that had turned heads wherever she went, was unwashed, scraped into a ponytail that hung raggedly down her skeletal back. They eyes, bright sapphires that could stop a heart beat at fifty paces, glistened with unshed tears- and the heavy make-up only emphasised, not hid the growing, dark circles around her heavily lidded eyes.

As she rushed away from me, I saw how her clothes, usually styled so carefully to show off her figure, now hung dejectedly from her shoulders, dragging her down. Maybe she felt me watching her, maybe it was a nervous twitch, but she reached up self-consciously, and patted her hair. Her elegant hands, in contrast to her hair were deathly pale, the veins a stark blue. The scars on her arms, from needles or sharp blades, were a vivid red.

As a watched the gang across the road, I realised I wasn't the only one to notice her. One of the men waved a hand- and a car engine started.

Caroline was walking quickly, her head down, so she didn't see them until the last minute. Then she raised her head.

"Run Caroline! Run!", was all I could think, I was terrified, so paralysed with fear I couldn't even open my mouth to scream. My fear was echoed in Caroline's face as she tried to see a way out- looking left and right, but unable to move. A rabbit caught in the headlight, a cow to the slaughter.

"Run! Run Caroline!"

She ran. Speeding away from the gates and veering a sharp left towards the bus stop. It was too late. There were more than I'd thought. And they were smart. A few had concealed themselves behind the corner. As they stepped out and blocked her path, my heart sank. I knew then she would not get away, I was going to watch her die.

With out hesitating, Caroline threw herself into the road- but the engine I'd heard earlier roared. Suddenly a red Skoda was blocking her path, pinning her in a corner as the gang circled. Birds of prey surrounding their victim.

Then there was another sound, cutting through the panic that surrounded my thoughts. A motorbike, large and old by the sound of it, but fast. I saw it then, swerving around the oblivious students, like a skier in a slalom event. Maybe it had come to rescue her! Maybe she'd be all right!

I sprinted for the gates, not caring who I collided with- elbowing tiny year sevens and burly sixth formers alike. I had to do something!

The bike was driving straight for her. The rider hunched over the handle bars, head bent, eyes focused on his target. Caroline had seen it too. She sidestepped to escape, but stumbled. The leader stepped off of the curb, and caught her before she hit the ground. He put an arm around her back then, as if to offer extra support. Her scream as the sharpened blade tore through her flesh told the real story. The scream wavered as her dropped her, as a child would discard a broken toy, and she fell, bleeding and helpless into the gutter.

"CAROLINE!" someone screamed, their voice distorted by fear. It was only as I chocked on my tears, I realised, the voice was mine.

The crowds parted and I was at her side at last. Too late to save her, but there none the less. She was bleeding badly, her shirt, once a dazzling white, was stained a dark crimson, the same crimson that my shirt became as I held her.

She looked at me- but I could tell she couldn't see. Those glimmering jewels were glazed from loss of blood.

"Come on Caroline! Come on! Don't leave me!" I sobbed.

"Mum?" She rasped, and I recoiled at the sound her breathing made. A deep gurgling, the sound like when you slurp the last dregs of milkshake from a glass with a straw. The knife had pierced her lungs. She was drowning in her own blood.

What ever hope I'd had, however small, vanished at the sound. My little sister was dying in my arms. For all her pretences, good looks and the brains, she was just a scared little girl, crying for her mum.

"Yes." I lied into her hair, matted with rain and blood. "Yes, don't worry, Mummy's here. It's going…" I broke off, and took a deep breath. "It's going to be all right."

I could hear the sirens now, drawing closer, but it was too late. I saw the life leave her eyes. She was dead.

Even as I bowed my head in anguish, my eyes searched the crowds for her killer. They were gone, vanished into the crowds. Heads down, hoods up, just like everybody else. The rain obscured my vision, it hid them. Just as it hid the growing puddle of her blood, washing it away, down the gutter.