Amy Parker

“Let go of me!” Amy Parker yelled, struggling to get out of my grasp. “Let go of me!” She repeatedly cried. We both knew I wasn’t going to let go that easily and the poor girl was just going to lose her voice by tomorrow, but she insisted on running her trap anyway. I honestly didn’t understand teenage girls. They yell when they don’t get their way, when they’re angry, and when they’re in an alleyway miles away from any working society. “Connor, please” the little bitch pleaded with innocents’, warm tears staining her plastic cheeks. I gave the girl I once loved a hateful glare, causing her green eyes to water even more.

I took my large hand and raised it to Amy’s face. I wasn’t one to hit girls in dark alleys, but this one deserved it.

A loud slap echoed off the brick walls surrounding us, along with a girlish cry of pain. With my thumb and index finger, I got a grip of Amy’s chin and lifted it, forcing her to stare back at me. But she didn’t return the look of fear that my murderous glare should have evoked.

But forgiveness.

I unzipped my backpack while still having hold of one of her wrists. I felt around until I found the silk white scarf that once belonged to Amy, a pair of scissors, and IPod, and my black Zippo lighter. I knew after this I would need a midnight smoke. I put the lighter and IPod down behind me as I cut the scarf in half.

Amy didn’t speak.

I took the larger half of the scarf and used it as handcuffs around Amy’s wrists, while I used the smaller one to gag her. When I was finished tying her muzzle around the back of the neck, I gently put my hands on her shoulders, and applied slight pressure, making her sit agents’ the wall. I reached for my IPod behind me and pushed play on the first song; ‘Set Fire to the Rain’, by Adele. Knowing she wouldn’t run away, I turned my back for a minute to get my water bottle Amy thought was filled with punch.

I turned back to the girl who brought back so many memories, and carefully poured the tainted juice so it created a heart in the pavement only a foot away. With the extra liquid, I pored it on Amy’s precious little white prom dress and matching shoes. When the Poland Spring bottle was empty, I threw it at the floor by Prom Queen’s feet.

The black lighter was practically calling my name, so I couldn’t help but reach for it in my hands. Amy’s bright green eyes widened at the sight of it, and tried to scream, but the scarf in her mouth prevented her from being heard.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered before flicking the lighter and watching the scene light up in flames.