She Killed Him

Prologue

I squeeze my eyes shut as the pain jolts through them once again. It always starts with an innocent headache that swirls its way through, from the back of my neck, coursing through the nerves, crawling up to the top of my head, then, the throbbing at the sides, as I take it all in stride, determined not to to let it control my actions as the saying goes pain is inevitable, suffering is optional and I don't want to let that pain be a puppeteer to my suffering. Even so, the sudden jolts of excruciating pain that feels as though I am being poked with two knives at both sides of my temples, makes me flinch and squeeze my eyes shut. Nobody noticed. They almost never do even when the puppeteer breaks through my walls of restrain and control my actions because they don't want to. They are to busy with whining about every single petulant discomfort that they come across. They never notice when I drop my pen, all of a sudden, in the midst of writing, as though the pen suddenly started emitting heat and became too scalding for my not so tender palms that are calloused in some parts as soft as they are. How I always drop my hand straight at my side for a few seconds. My wrists aren't as strong as they once were. They fail me at times, so does my fingers. My nerve endings feels as though they are being squeezed so hard that pressure leads to veins bursting. Most of all, they didn't notice how there was blood under my finger nails with the chipped nail polish. If only they have noticed, they would have known. I killed him.

She said she had killed him. Who is him? Why did she have those headaches? Was her nervous system faulty? Why didn't I notice any of this? I have always observed her. I watched her during all of our maths classes, Jayden's back to school party, Don Craig's accident, homecoming dance, Caulter's farewell party and every other time that she manages to be under the scrutiny of my vision. I have always thought that I am a thoroughly observant person, especially when it comes to her as I was deeply intrigued by the complexity of her personality, how she always seemed lively and outgoing as well as cold and detached all at the same time. I would like to think that I am unfazed by her murder confession, but I am, because as much as I think I know her, I don't. None of us really do. She will always be a puzzle that needs to be rearranged as the puzzle will never be time immemorial cause it doesn't remain the same way for too long, the image keeps changing as her personality morphs into something new. And now, she has left me the last entry of her diary. Why did she leave me this? Did she even commit suicide or was she murdered? Suddenly I felt like one of those guys in the movie that takes over the burden of solving a self-proclaimed murder. She has left him herself to decipher even after she died. His own personal enigma to be solved.