My Dead Poet.

"I guess he was like the real life Dylan Thomas-you know the poet. His last name is actually Thomas you know hahaha. I actually think that Dylan Thomas was his ancestor. Seriously though, he just had such a presence that I know will be remembered for eternity. His poetry, it will be famous for sure. He wrote me something once. It was quite sweet actually, on the night of our last senior ball- it was a masquerade you know, and so he opened the car door and took my hand like a gentleman. Then he elegantly paraded me into the massive hall filled with fancy flowing dresses and shielded faces.

We began to dance, it was the old dance of our town; we had to begin the ball with this, to pass our etiquette class you see. It began with a slow bow or a curtsy while staring deeply into each others eyes. No words had been uttered yet. After a sufficient pause in the music, he took my hand and pulled me close. My breath drew short, and I looked up into his eyes while locking my hand in his, beginning to sway from side to side. He whispered his poem into my ear- I'll never forget it, it was one of the most memorable moments of my life- he said-" I trembled

"-Miss Bridges! Miss Bridges! ... If you please! I need a statement on who you think committed the murder! Not another endless tirade..." The small man urged impatiently while fiddling with his flimsy notepad and pen.
"Miss Bridges! Try to be reasonable here-" he continued irritably,
"-try to be reasonable! I'm sorry Mr. Ingot but I really have no comment on the situation to add, nor do I have any suspects to add to your list. I must ask you to gather your things and to leave immediately!" I snorted hastily.

Did he really have the nerve to ask me to be reasonable just weeks after my late ex boyfriends death? The nerve of that spiny old man! I should so much as slap him across the face! I nearly did too, I rose up from the couch to which I sat uncomfortably and swung my hand back ready to slap, but yet I stopped with a sharp pause. To the slimy Mr. Ingot my hand gesture appeared to be a signal for his pathway to the door, but I had merely entered into another flash back, again without my consent.

*slappp*
"My, my Miss Blaire! You had me fooled" he smirked vehemently,
"Oh yeah?" I challenged playfully,
"I believed that you would find my gesture slightly... distasteful, but never would I have thought you'd slap me" he replied with a cheeky wink.
"That's what you get for trying to touch me" I snorted, easing up on him a little.
"I hardly think brushing hair out of your eyes is considered as unacceptable motion!" he smiled,
"We both know that you were going to kiss me Dion" I laughed confidently.
"What'll it take for you to accept a date with me huh? I'll write you a poem... Sing you a song? Okay... I'll bring you flowers? ... I'll - I'll make you a bracelet?" He laughed nervously.
I cringed at the thought of a hand made bracelet from Dion, I mean the guy was a stranger to bracelets and crafts, unless it had anything to do with crafting poetry.

I blinked quickly and shook my head, and followed Mr. Ingles quickly to the door, "I'm sorry that you weren't much help miss Blaire but if you have any ideas or notions on Mr. Thomas' case please don't hesitate to give me a ring" he whined while handing me his business card.

'/Mr. M Ingot private detective because justice must always prevail 04xxxxxxxx/'

With a sigh of relief I shut the front door and waited motionless until the sound of Mr. Ingots car had ventured far beyond the realms of my-our house. It was weird that I had moved on so abruptly, I mean, we hadn't been a in a relationship for a hefty number of months before it happened, but it was still our house. We built it together. I slid to the floor and held my head in my hands and clammed shut my eyes restlessly. "How did this all happen? Is this even real life?" I questioned myself plainly.

These past couple of weeks had been torture. If the greasy long haired detective wasn't enough, I was running out of food and liquor to live off. I knew I would have to leave the house sooner or later; I had just picked later first. I guess I smelled fine, I still showered- showers made me feel better, and they brought me closer to him. We often talked about random things like showers and how strange it was to discover that both of us preferred to sit in the shower than to stand- I know it's weird but just roll with it. It brought us closer together. It still does, even though he's gone. I haven't been dealing with the pain very well. I had heavily relapsed into my depressive anxious state, to which I had been in before Dion had come along. I am strong enough to admit that I have been releasing my feelings in an unhealthy manner; drinking excessively and upholding poor living habits. But could you blame me?

Every single fucking scenario had played out in my head for these past few weeks. I didn't even care that they don't know who did it- who killed him. I just couldn't get over the fact that he was gone. I mean, it wasn't my job to investigate his murder. I was never the investigator, it was always him. Dion was the self proclaimed 'cunning one', he always seemed to know everything. If he was here I wish he'd tell me why, when he is the one to die, I am the one who feels like I have died instead?

I can't quite remember if I fell asleep or if I went back into another flash back. But this one was traumatising and painful for me to relive.

"Was this-I-us... Were we just a game to you?" I stammered
"No of course not!" He plead
"Really! Really! So that's why you played me, because you care huh!" I screamed
"Baby listen-" he begged
"-baby! God listen to yourself Dion! Congratulations 'baby' because you Win the game! I don't what to play anymore! And your prize! Me. Gone. Forever." I dramatically concluded while slamming the front door in his face and making an effort to loudly lock it.
"LET ME FIGHT FOR US BLAIRE" he yelled knocking loudly on the door for quite some time until he sunk to the floor out of breath. He placed his hand on the door, I could hear it, as I'd he wanted to touch mine. Silently sobbing I put my hand up to his too. I was furious with what he did. But I was mostly upset.

He called and called for days but I never answered. I was sobbing far too much for that. I didn't want him to hear me cry, he'd hurt me enough. I listened to the voicemails far too many times, but yet I replied to none. He cheated on me. I had no obligation to forgive him. The texts he sent me were long and poetic, but sadly too late. Did I feel regret? of course I did, but I had to move on. He was poison.

My best friend Sabrina really pulled me out of the gutters here. She was there when incessantly bawled and watched reruns of Greece and dirty dancing. Just like she was there to pick me up and take me out to meet new people. Sabrina was a great friend. But the best quality Sabrina had, was knowing her limits. She knew what I really needed; whether that be to cry and spend nights alone, or to party and get on with my life. Sabrina was harsh, but loving. She really said it like it was. That's what I loved about her.

It was really hard on me after I vowed to ice him out, I really did love him. In a way, I treated him like he was dead long before it actually happened. It was just easier that way.

I wasn't there when he came to collect his things from 'our' house, and I wasn't there after he publicly shamed himself in front of the TV camera to win me back. Just like he wasn't there when he was meant to be faithful to me.

Yes, it hurt leaving him. But it absolutely ripped my heart out hearing about his untimely demise. I mean, in the back of my mind I had always assumed that we'd get back together once I had cooled off. I still loved him much to my dismay. I often imagined wandering down to my favourite hidden spot in the park, where we had spent much time there together having picnics and doing all sorts of romantic couple-y things together. I'd be walking down to the spot, and I'd see a table decked out with candles and roses- just how it was for our first date- and he'd stare into my eyes like he had only just discovered them and stay "Blaire, I love you more that you could ever imagine. I know it's late, and... I know I messed up, but I really really do love you, so can we please make up?" To which I'd throw my arms around him and burst into tears.
But that was not all, then he would gently pry my arms off from around his neck and kneel on the ground.

"Brrrrrrrrring.... Brrrrrrrrring... Brrrrrrring" the phone jumped. "Hel-hello?" I quietly answered clearing my throat "Oh honey thank god! Are you okay? You haven't answered the phone in ages sweety. Jesus, this case has me frustrated beyond my usual limits! I mean those bloody detectives are even questioning me! Come on! They are questioning me, Dions ex girlfriends best friend! I haven't seen him since we all caught up months ago when you guys were still together why the hell would I bother killing the guy you know!... Hello... Blaire?... Oh right I'm being insensitive aren't I? I should be doing the whole, darling he was such a sweetheart! He was a saint! I am SUREEE he will be up there looking down on us right now thing shouldn't I?"
I managed to sum up a chuckle
"Ha.. Sebrina I'm glad you haven't changed"
"Changed?!" She cried on the other line "it's been too long since I've seen you darling, I mean the funeral was about three weeks ago. I know you said you needed time to be alone and handle things but I'm coming over-that's why I called. I'm gonna fix you up. I really think it'll do you a lot of good"
"Okay." I winced.