Bad Together

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Rosalie

It was cold and ridiculously dark as I walked through the alley. I didn't have time to pick up a jacket before I rushed out the door. Maybe it was a good idea to turn around and get it.

If only I had done that.

The further away I got from home, the more I felt uneasy.

It was like everything was warning me that night, but I kept on ignoring it.

The whimpers of pain started getting louder and louder, and as an instinct and an idiotic decision, I followed the noises.

I stay hidden in the shadows as I observe the crime that was before my eyes.

I should have ran. I should have called for help. I should have walked away. But I didn't. I stayed because I felt paralysed, I couldn't move an inch.

I close my eyes just as I hear the gunshot. Or was it because I had this dream way too many times to remember exactly what happened.

The guilty feeling of not calling for help pulses through me. The ringing of the shot slices through me, as if I was the one getting shot.

Maybe I should have been the one to get shot because what I did next was way worse than just witnessing a murder.

When I open my eyes, I am trapped in a corner with a heavy looking man looking over my small body.

I remember every single detail and I hate that I have to live through it again every single time I close my eyes.

I remember feeling powerless.

I close my eyes for the final time, knowing what was to come next.

When I open them my again, my hands are trembling with half a broken bottle clutched tight. The smell of blood is fresh and stained on my hands.

I can't look down. My eyes are glued to brick wall, tears running down my cheeks.

I can't do anything but let out a scream.

•

I wake up with a startle, grabbing the nearest thing to me to protect myself. The light suddenly turns on, making me squint as I let my eyes adjust to the light.

Then I see him standing in the doorway, his hands clenched onto the handle and his chest puffing up and down as if he had ran a mile to get here.

I look around, seeing the messy bedsheets that I just have kicked off of me during my dream. I don't need a mirror to see how bad I look, I can tell by the way he is looking at me.

I'm not safe wherever I go. I will probably be wanted for murder soon and there's about a hundred people after me because of what I did.

"I'm okay." I whisper, clearing my throat as I couldn't look at him in the eyes anymore.

He doesn't say anything for a while and I'm thankful for it. I don't want to talk about it. Not ever, I just want to forget.

"How long?" He asks.

I don't look at him. I continue to stare down at the bedsheets, wondering how I even got here in the first place.

"Since that night." I answer quietly.

How could one night change my entire life? Because of what I did i am now scared to sleep. Every fucking time I close my eyes all I see is him.

I haven't had one good night sleep in so long I almost forgot how good it felt. Just one decent night that's all I'm asking.