True or False.

Chapter 2

Cloe and I did not see other after high school. Now I think it would have been better if we did not collide into each other accidentally in that coffee shop, on that Saturday. Maybe that was the event that shouldn't have happened. Maybe that could have prevented tonight. But alas it happened. And now it is playing in my brain as if it is currently happening.

It had been a few years, since Cloe and I last saw each other, and things had changed. Specifically, my appearance and by that, I mean, my specs were now gone. No more thick, huge spectacles adorning my nose, no more blurry blobs walking about without it. Nope. Finally, I was able to get a surgery, and I now have somewhat normal vision. Yes, not exactly perfect and that was expected. Still, much, much better. And with my glasses gone, my eyes are more visible, and bare for the world to see. And so is my face, which apparently used to be hidden behind glasses. Like what? Anyways, that was what Cloe said.

This Saturday started like any other Saturday, with me grunting while waiting for my coffee because I was late for work. Well, not exactly but according to my time, which is say five minutes ahead of actual time, I was late. I know how that sounds. I know. But hey, I always have been particular and love to reach places on time or rather before time. Now, that does not mean I never got angry comments thrown at for reaching a party before time or something. Because that happened, several times might I add. Anyways. That is a different topic. So, this Saturday, I was tapping my feet and checking my phone, grunting when the coffee will be ready. On hindsight I could have taken coffee from my home, instead of waiting for it every Saturday. Now if you are wondering why do I have work on Saturday? Well, because I was a research assistant at that time who was doing their own research on the side. So, I was always busy and was always working. I mean I barely had time to eat and sleep. So, I choose the time I get coffee as the only time I spent with the outside world, interacting with people. And by that, I mean the barista, who I think used to hate me for my behavior. But hey they were my only source of interaction so; I  took whatever I got.

When my coffee was finally ready that Saturday, it was already 9.05 in the morning. Now I know I was my own boss but still, I was late, and I hate being late. So, I was busy grunting and mentally cursing them out. And did not notice a new pair of feet just behind me. I collided with what felt like a thin, tall human being who produced a little high-pitched sound at that collision. I cursed at my behavior and started uttering sorry without even looking at the stranger's face. That's when Cloe stopped me. She recognized my voice.

"Is that you, Alison?" I looked at her at that. Now this would have been some movie scene had it not been me being stuck in shock. I was seeing my best friend after years. My best friend from high school. My partner in crime. And there I was holding an almost empty cup of coffee, staring into her eyes as if that would have solved my inability to talk. "Oh my God. It is you. Wow. Look at you Ali, I almost didn't even recognize you without those goofy eyes. Wow you look so different." She literally held my shoulders and made me stand up. I was still unable to speak and continued to stare at her as if she was not at all real. Or that she was some celebrity. I have no idea why I behaved like that or is it now my brain twisting the real events. Who knows? Either way I remember being star struck but not to this extent.

"Where are your glasses, Ali? Are you alright? Can you see? Do you know where they went, I can help you find them."

"Just like when we first met, right?" That was the first sentence I spoke. And Cloe laughed at that.

That was the first Saturday, I stayed back ordering another cup of coffee and sitting down with her to catch up. That was the first Saturday, I had a good day. That was the first time, I made a promise to be in touch with her and that I will never let her go. For she helped me so much. Yet, that's exactly what I did tonight. I let her go. I let Cloe go. I let her get hurt. I killed her. And then I just left her there and started running. How could I be so foolish? It is a crime scene for fuck's sake, and I just ran. I need to report it. I can't just leave her lying there like that. But I can't go back. I can't see her lying there, lifeless again. What do I do? I can call and report the crime. Yes. Let's do that.

I stopped running at that thought. And start looking around. For I have no idea where I am. I try to understand where exactly did I run off to? And then a blue house with the porch light still on comes into my focus. I realize I ran to my parents' house. Of course. Makes sense. The last place I felt safe. The last place where anything made sense. Because currently everything is jumbled in my head. And I have no idea what to do and how should I even behave.

With that thought, I drag my feet to the blue house and my mom opens the door before I even knock. She takes in my appearance and hugs me. No words needed for her to understand something happened. My dad on the other hand, frowns at me and mouths something to my mom. I have no idea. I can see his face, I can see his mouth move, form words. Yet, I have no idea what those are. I do not think I am capable of understanding anything, anymore. My mom somehow takes me upstairs to my teenage bedroom. Now this place, still adorns Cloe and my pictures from high school, from later on. And the most recent one which is from last weekend, when we all had dinner together to celebrate my achievement. Now that is a lie. I did not achieve anything. I am a liar. Everything is a lie. And I am nothing but a fraud. I am a murder, who just killed her best friend and ran. Ran like she did not commit a crime. Ran like she has no responsibility. Ran like I had planned it along.

As soon as mom leaves me. I go take a shower. I need to get the blood off me. I need to get the smoke off me. I need to get everything off me. I just need to wash off everything. And most importantly, I need to make a call to 911 reporting the crime. My crime. My doing. What I had done.

Nothing. No soap or water can ever take the smell, the blood off of me. It is engraved onto my skin. Because I am a murder, who not only killed her best friend but also left her there. It should have been me. Why did Cloe have to save me one last time? Why did we meet? If only!