His Alibi Was Me

She was the quiet one. The kind who read court cases for fun, who highlighted ethics codes like scripture, who kept her head down and her morals higher. A girl like her shouldn't have let him in. Not that night. Not with the blood still drying on his collar.

But she did. And she lied. Not for herself. Not even for love.
For something she still doesn't understand.

Now the days are longer. The silences, sharper. People are watching. The case is closed, but nothing feels over.
Not the dreams.
Not the way his fingers still tremble when he thinks no one's looking.
Not the way she hears her name being whispered from places no one stands.

Everyone believes the worst part of the story is the crime.

It's not.

The worst part is what happens after you save someone who might not deserve it.
The worst part is knowing that you're still choosing them.
Again.
And again.
And again.