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Georgie - VII

Fred,

When I switched on my phone the day after, I was astounded at the missed calls.

It was a mixture of everyone I had ever known: Mom, Dad, that old nutcase Mrs. Farring.

But at the end, it was only you. Seven missed calls from you. It was then; I knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

I called Mom and Dad. Their phones were not reachable.

When you picked up the phone, I did not expect the barrage of anger.

You were understandably upset. I couldn't decipher your words. All I could make out was that you were at some Hermes Hospital.

I reached there as fast as I could, my heart thudding with dread.

You shouted at me. It was understandable.

It was my fault, after all.

But, after hearing how they didn't survive the night, I wasn't sane. I was crazy, delirious even. And then you began shouting, saying how irresponsible I was.

I told you that you were the one they didn't want. I knew better, but I wasn't in the right mind.

I could see how it hurt you.

It gave me a sick sort of satisfaction. Hurting was easier than accepting.

And for ages, our feud went on.

I'd hurt you. You'd hurt me: All throughout the rest of high school. It was a long two years. I drowned in guilt.

I pity anyone who tried to help us.

They realized that ice could burn and fire could freeze.

Your vigilante,

Georgie