Fighting Darkness

It was like a horror story. A tale read only in books. A scene only shown in movies. It's not one you would ever think to see, or witness. Her cries weren't heard, and her pain was hidden until the very end. The bloodshed wasn't violent, and her last breath ended in the arms of her very best friend, who got there too late. No one knew why. No one really understood. But they pointed fingers. Her parents should hide in shame because they didn't always get along. Her brother should feel low for not protecting her. Her best friend should have saved her. It was her fault, period, for taking her own life.

But things stayed the same after that. Everyone went about their same routines, as if it never happened. Except for the ones who were placed at the end of the fingers. A part of their routine has been stolen. A piece of their lives has been broken. Part of their hearts have died along with her. It wasn't fair. Not to them. To be accused yet have their lives be changed forever.

It's been two years since that night and as students walk down the crowded halls, they still remember the tale as they look at her honor picture in the showcase. They still question why as they walk down her street, as they pass the house that now belongs to another family. But no one speaks of it. It's in the past. This unsolved death has been pushed aside - never spoken since the day they buried her.

Until now.

Artwork created by Emily Muto.