Chapter 6

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I stared down at my plate. A voice was chittering excitedly in my ear and I looked up at the source: a beautiful young woman with long black hair and gorgeous sapphire blue eyes. She was going on and on about something.

I looked back down, playing with my food. It was hard for me to look at her. All I felt when I looked at her was guilt.

"Are you paying attention?" she asked with a smile playing behind her frown.

From the exhilarating glow in her cheeks and in her eyes, I could tell the topic was something she was passionate about. Someone she was passionate about. Someone she loved.

But all I could feel was guilt.

"Oh, come on. You don't have to be all doom and gloom. Be happy for me."

I stood abruptly. "Reena," I said firmly. "Stop. Please. I can't listen to you talk about him for another freaking second."

She looked confused. "Why?" She stood up slowly, cautiously coming up to my level. "Out of everyone, I thought you would be happiest for me."

Tears threatened to break over my eyes and I was afraid she'd see. "You know you're talking about my best friend, right?" I said. "It's weird."

I lied a bit. Their relationship didn't bother me at all. But I just... I couldn't handle the guilt that was crushing me. The guilt of what I was going to do.

I turned and left her gaping at me from across the table. I ended up in a hallway, walking aimlessly but I knew where I was going. I walked into a room and the door was shut closed behind me. I whipped around to face the threat but was shoved against the wall by my shoulders.

I let him shove me, though. I let him grab my arms. I let him pull my hands above my head, and press his body against mine as he kissed me.

And I smiled, and kissed him back.

He pulled away, caressing my face in his hands. "Ready?" he whispered.

I nodded, pecking his lips once more. He took my hand, and out the window we went.

I was doing this for him, I reminded myself. For him. The guy I loved. I could do this. I could do this.

Soon we were standing in a room. A room with a young man, fast asleep in a bed. A young man I knew to be my best friend.

I cautiously approached him, coming to a halt at his bedside. In the ominous silence, I watched him sleep. One arm was thrown across his forehead and the other was tucked under his pillows. He looked like a little boy when he slept. It was ironic to the man he was becoming. He was so stressed lately that seeing him so peaceful lifted something off my chest, yet drove the guilt deeper at the same time.

Then I pulled the dagger from my belt. I held it over his body, point down, trying to convince myself that I could do it. Trying to forget the memories of us that rose to the surface. Trying to forget our shared laughs, jokes, and tears.
I held that position for a long time, staring at the face I knew better than my own. My fingers curled around the handle of the dagger poised over his chest. His calm, peaceful face. The rise and fall of his chest with each slow breath.

I loved him. As far and as whole as a best friend's love can be.

But I loved my boyfriend more.

Then I thrust the knife down towards his heart.

And I plunged it deep into the mattress by his arm.

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