Dear Diary

13. YOU KILLED HER

Wednesday, September 18th

D E R E K

I pop the pills into my mouth and swallow without chasing with water as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I look like shit.

Taking these pills for the past few days isn't helping that fact, but I need more; my supply is running low. Maybe I can snatch something from Mom or Dad. The loving couple in question is currently downstairs, voices muffled beyond the bathroom door, but still loud enough to penetrate my eardrums and drive me mad. They're probably arguing about how terrible grief counseling is going and whether or not we should bother with it.

You'd think their yelling would be enough to keep me up all on its own, but I'm not so lucky. The pills do all the work and thankfully so, because I have to stay awake. I can't handle the nightmare. I can't deal with the event that unfolds before me every time I drift off.

It's already been over a month since Sidney was killed and that night is still mostly a blur. Still, it finds a way to haunt my consciousness. I should've never gone to Marcos' party. I should've never drank so much.

I should've never gotten into that fight with Sidney.

What was it even about? That's what's so frustrating. I can't remember, but the nightmare creates its own narrative. It's the same thing every time: I'd be standing in her doorway, watching as she's tossed around and beaten by an assailant with a hood over his face. She's screaming, begging, and fighting while all I can do is stand paralyzed, an invisible force keeping me in place.

"Derek, help me!" she screams. "Please help me!"

The nightmare ends in the same bone-chilling way that would have me jolt awake every time, sweat gliding down my forehead, and wanting to scream bloody murder.

The assailant would pick Sidney up off the floor, bloodied and bruised. He'd press her back against him while facing my direction, head lowered so I can't see his face. Sidney's sobs accompanied by her pleading eyes, wild with fright as she begs me to save her, provoke me to try to break free of the invisible hold keeping me in place. It's always to no avail.

The assailant would then press the edge of a knife against her neck and slash her throat clean open. The blood splatters and hits me on the face. Her murderer tosses her on the bed, knife dripping red as she gargles, choking on her own blood.

Then the killer would raise his head, revealing his face.

And it's me.

A sickening shark's grin spreads across my . . . no, the imposter's face as he says the final words that end the nightmare every time: "You killed her."

***

S A M A R A

"Geronimo!"

Gio's booming voice grabs Kelly and I's attention. He runs across the diving board and launches himself off, flying through the air for a couple seconds before landing into the pool. The water splashes the two of us lying poolside in our two-piece bathing suits on the lounge chairs.

When Gio resurfaces I scold him, feeling my dreadlocks for wetness. "Watch the hair!"

He laughs. "Sorry, Sammy."

Kelly lifts her shades so they're resting on her head. "You buffoon."

"Love you too, Kell." Gio winks at her before submerging himself under water again. She chuckles. "That boy is a hot mess."