The Girl

Disarm

I held him, and let him cry, not caring what anyone who would happen upon this scene would think. We stayed suspended in that state for what felt like forever, him crying into my shirt, and me holding him. While we were sitting there, Scott's mom called out for him. "Wow, it's late. I've gotta go, guys," he said. We stood up, and said our goodbyes. I called my mom, and a few minutes later, she came and picked me up. 

The car ride home was silent. I was looking out the window at the shifting shadows passing, and neither of us tried to initiate conversation. When we got home, I got out of the car, and shrugged off the questions about my mental state of being. She didn't try to stop me, so I went straight up to my room and turne on my laptop.

As I turned it on, the computer dinged with Facebook notifications. Huh, that's weird, I thought. Since she died, I hadn't really used the social network. I opened the page, and there were friend requests from Ron and Scott. With a bit of hesitation, and a heck of a lot of curiosity, I accepted. 

Ron sent me a video, and, again, with a mixture of hesitation and curiosity, began to watch it. It was obviously shot on a phone, because it was pretty low quality, and it was shot at night, because the main figure in the shot was only illuminated by a streetlight to the far left of them. The person behind the camera said, "Hey, Amy," Ron said. The figure turned around and looked into the camera, I think. "What, Ronny?" At that, I knew who it was. It was Adrian a couple summers ago, before the suicide attempt that made her lose her voice. "I've got the camera working, finally. Can you start singing now, please? You promised!"

There was an audible sigh, then a reluctant agreement. "Yeah, sure. What song?"

"Whatever you're listening to's alright."

"Okay." There was a moment of silence, then she started singing.

 Disarm you with a smile

And cut you like you want me to

Cut the little child

Inside of me and such a part of you

Ooh, the years burn

I used to be a little boy

So old in my shoes

And what I choose is my choice

What's a boy supposed to do?

The killer in me is the killer in you

My love

I send this smile over to you

Her voice trailed off, or maybe it was just the emotions overriding me. But I was crying, because it seemed like she was singing directly to me. Sorry dude, came Ron's message. I just found that on my phone. We've done others. Do you want to see some of them?

Yeah, I shot back. I loved her voice when she still had it, so I'd love to hear them.

 Are you sure it won't make you go off the deep end?

Yeah, I'm sure. 

Alright, I'll send you more.

Hey, I'm hopping off for the night, so goodnight dude.

Ok, goodnight.

I shut my laptop, tears still stinging my eyes. I glanced over to the nightstand, and the drawer that hid a knife my brother left for me. I leaned over, and almost took the knife out, before realizing what I was about to do. No, Johnny, I heard her say to me. Don't do it. Don't end up like me, please. After, that, I fell face-first into my pillow, and drifted off into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.