𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 - 𝐵.𝐸

1 - 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘒𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴

"For once the light in my life is not a burning flame, but  her bewitching blue eyes I looked into that first September day."

There are three things I was absolutely certain of. First, everything we did that night needs to stay a secret, always in the dark, never searching for a way out. Second, it was all my fault, every slick swift of gunshots, every fiery flame that burnt white, everything Scarlett did to them was my fault and mine alone. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with the girl whose shining blue eyes bewitched mine that long September day when sweet roasted coffee aromas danced around us.

The sound of that final scream from my side of the trigger ending the life infront of me played on repeat in my haunted mind like a broken record. I killed the ghost of the girl who meant more to me than my very own life used to. I still disgust and taunt myself thinking back to it. Standing back in the warm red snow as freezing snowflakes wet my hair. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror is not the same girl I knew. I constantly tried to wash the dark crimson blood off my hands, off my entire body from head to toe. The deep cherry wine stained my soul like kisses from evil himself.

I always knew I would be damned since that early may morning my mom woke me up with tears running down her mature face and spitting out the words that she was gone. I knew myself a little too well. I knew I would do anything to bring down the person responsible for her death...I just wish she actually was six feet under since the beginning.

And I hated that about myself. I hate the way I feel relieved that she's gone, almost happy. No, not happy....just...free.

My mind kept me awake most nights. Why Clearwater? Did she want to move here even before her parents chose this quiet town? Was it her own choice? Why here and why now?

My hazel eyes drifted off my plum bed sheets and traced along my empty wall to the four unused hooks. The small white scratches poking through the navy blue paint formed an empty square where my favorite possession used to hang. The picture of the two unfamiliar girls hugging each other now resided in the back of my closet , along with other non significant objects I own.

Some nights I find myself looking at that portrait taken of us and glide my fingers along her face, no thoughts... just wishing. Wishing that I was strong enough to handle this, wishing I could go back to this memory where I was oblivious to everything.

I know she did indeed love me in her own fucked up way, a part of me wants to go back in time. Back to when all I wanted was for her to come back to me in a dream, a memory, a shadow, a ghost....anything. Back to when I was living a lie and none of this depressing life sucking shit ever happened.

I might not mind living a lie if it meant that I didn't have to deal with myself and the never ending blood stains on my mind like the soaked wooden floors of the cabin.

But then I think of Her.

I think of her, and all of this pain feels okay. It never disappears but it feels lighter.

Shit, I kind of miss that old playboy lighter.

I drag my eyes away from the wall as I sit up crossing my legs on my bed and staring at the girl by the window. Some locks of her dark brown chocolate hair pick up the icy wind revealing her collarbones and velvety skin marked with goosebumps. The chilled scents of winter flow into the room while I take deep inhales savoring the coldness I love so much.

Somehow she's the only one who has been kind of okay though everything, well besides her anxiety. She's been ignoring public places for a few weeks now, it makes her feel nervous I think like everyone's eyes are glued to us, knowing our secrets.