The Kill

I killed him. My lawyer would say that I didn’t, I did. He didn’t deserve it either. No one deserved that. I’m sure some people are glad he’s dead, people who owed him money, but not me. He had a family, I think even a kid or two. That’s what I think about as I sit in my cell. That’s all I think about. Who else have I hurt that I had no intention of hurting?

My friends and family have yet to come see me and I understand why. I’m no longer the sister my siblings could confide in, nor the daughter my parents were proud of. I’m not the friend people go to when they need advice. Instead I’m a tragedy.‍I’m the example of what happens to people once they start using‍.

Three year ago I was a high school graduate planning on attending college. I had my dorm room assigned, my bedspread picked out, my major decided. But that summer changed my life. It was a summer in transition. Everything was changing and little did I know I would be changing too.

Pete and I met on the hottest day of the so far. He walked up to the counter of Rocky’s Convenience Store with his Marlboro lights and a redbull. His ocean blue eyes immediately caught my attention; I had never seen eyes like that.‍His hand brushed mine as he handed me the money and my stomach sank. Maybe that’s when I should have known it was a destructive relationship. Nothing that doesn’t scare the shit out of you makes your stomach sink like that.

Pete waited for me after my shift ended. We went for a walk and I learned he was an artist, something I should have guessed from his tattoos. He had been in Massachusetts for about a month freelancing and he was planning on staying a few more weeks. We went to his work he showed me his drawings. Every piece was different from the rest but together they made a complete idea. They were beautiful.

After that day we spent all of our time together. He was my first of so many things. My first real relationship, the first man I’ve ever given myself to, the first man I ever loved.

Of course looking back on it now I knew it was wrong to give into this kind of love, it was the kind of love that can make you feel so dangerous and at the same time so safe. When he asked me to come with him and travel America the only answer that seemed plausible was yes.

And just like that I gave up my future. I ditched college, ran away with a boy whose only real redeeming qualities were that he had beautiful eyes and a body to die for. kill rather.‍

We took off to LA and rented an apartment only mice would feel comfortable living in. I got a job as a waitress in a sleazy bar downtown. And little did I know Pete got a part-time job too, as a drug dealer. I should have seen what was happening.‍Suddenly he was bringing home drugs every night. Meth, cocaine, oxy, molly, you name it we had it. I‍was hesitant at first to take the drugs but I adapted quickly. To live in his world I had to learn to appreciate the drugs, and oh how I desperately wanted to live in his world. It went on like that for months; I became addicted to the high. To the feeling of not having to feel.

After many nights coming home in the early hours of the morning, Pete admitted to me that he had been selling drugs. I was glad he was honest and I didn’t mind so much. Lately he had been bringing in enough money for us to think about moving out of the shithole and into a place with running water. I would have liked that. After he told me about his real job he asked me for a favor.

With a worried look on his face he told me about a problem on his street. “This new guy Mikey started selling there and its starting to cut into my business. I just need to scare him enough to have him find a new place to sell. I just need you to distract him long enough for me to get a handle on him. Can you do that baby? If anything goes bad I want you to run.”

Two days later we went to meet Mikey. I asked him if I could buy drugs to buy Pete some time but it only worked for a minute. He saw through me. He saw Pete out of the corner of his eye. One minute Pete had his knife and the next Mikey pulled a gun on him. Pete knocked it out of his hand I grabbed it. Hon cocaine, I convinced myself that this would prove my love and Pete would be grateful to me forever. I turned the gun on Mikey and pulled the trigger. How thrilling! I thought.

By the time the cops caught up to me I was off my high and more remorseful than I thought possible.

And here I sit, in the same white-walled cell ‘ve sat for the last three years. The same place I know I’ll sit for the next 50 years. I found out from my lawyer that Pete cut a deal with the DA and is going to testify against me for his freedom.

I stare at the blank white walls that surround me and think about all that’s happened in last three years‍and I think of all the things I could have done and could have been. I could have been anything, everything. But I wasn’t. And instead I now remember the things I actually did, the person I actually became.


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