the girl hurriedly whispered as she grabbed my necklace and guided me towards the empty seat next to her. I had no idea who she was nor did I particularly care. It’s not every day that a golden skinned, misty eyed, gazelle with legs from here to heaven invites you over for company. But in this case she was only using me. And I to her as well I suppose.
I block off the creepy guy with milk breath who insisted on continuing an unwanted conversation and she ups my “new kid” status by being able to talk to her and have everyone around us insinuating that we’re good friends…or maybe something more. I wonder, had I known then what I know now, would I have pursued her? Probably. Maybe this time I could change the future, alter the course of time so things turn out differently.
But it’s best not to get lost in my fantasy. That kind of wishful thinking is for dreamers. I’ve done too much of that in my lifetime. It’s part of the reason she’s gone. The years have come and gone but her blood will forever be on my hands. Consider this my confession to a crime that was never solved. I’m tired of the guilt and depression, the constant secrecy, pushing away friends when they get too close, and all the other vexations that came along with my successful malfeasance. I can no longer pretend that it didn’t happen. It did, and this was how.