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Previously, on Your Story:

I bet you’re probably thinking: how did you get here? You can’t quite recall how we met or who said the first word (it was you, by the way) and now here you are.  I imagine you, sitting over there nonchalant with your toes tucked up under you, hiding in the crevice of your bare kneecaps, seeking warmth. You’re pretending like you don’t care, like this moment doesn’t matter but you can’t pretend forever.
You know what you did.

…and it’s time the world did too.

You were so alive. You don’t even know what I mean by that, you don’t even see it. You don’t see that your smile can end worlds. You were so sure of yourself that day, back when I heard that husky voice of yours for the first time. You probably thought you were being coy, your smile at half mast. You leaned over and said:

“I mean is what I did that big of a deal? We all step over others to get what we want sometimes. Right?”

Is that right? I suppose it is. You certainly believed it at the time. And I believed you, needed to believe you. Those eyes of yours, they seemed to see that secret place inside of me. You don’t think you’re to blame for what happens next, but trust me, you are.

You see, it was you and your actions that led us both here now. You over there, casually reading this while the dim lighting of the screen illuminates your face and for once you don’t look beautiful you just look eerie. Don’t you see it yet? Don’t you realize that everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO UNDERSTAND.

You’re breathing harder now, faster and heavier because you are finally coming to understand, no you know that I am right.

You can’t judge me over there. Not when you don’t even have the entire story. But please, don’t despair. I’m sharing those secrets with you now.

This body…this blood on my clothes. NONE of this matters if you can’t understand me. HEAR me.

Heh…you’re wondering who I killed now, aren’t you? You’re not even surprised because you saw this coming. You knew what I would do and yet you waited. And that makes you just as liable as me…

Now you’re wondering if that could possibly be true. Are you liable? well, let’s review the facts:

That day…that beautiful day we met in late July, it was cold in the office. I remember regretting that I hadn’t thought to bring my jacket in from the car- noted the bite to the air in the icy chill to your fingers.

They clutched my hand tight, your fingers strong and clammy around mine. And then that smile…NO! I will not allow you to distract me, not even now when the very memory of that day is branded into my soul. You’re listening now, don’t think I haven’t noticed. I know that you’re just biding your time, waiting for more details as I slowly leech them out to you. You are on my time now and I know how that must irk you. Go ahead, turn away if you must but that doesn’t make me disappear. That won’t erase what I’ve done or the blood that is on both of our hands.

I was mesmerized by you- captivated from that first moment. I was nervous, you didn’t see it, didn’t even know at the time that I would become someone who was so important to you. And am I still? Do you still think of me at night? I think you do.

When I shook your hand that day in July and you gave me that smile for the first time I knew I was yours. When you asked me later if what you did was a big deal I told you no because I didn’t want you to think that I saw you as any less than the living deity you are. But here is the first thing that I want to make completely clear to you about that day back in July:

I lied.

That’s right. I lied. I know you won’t want to hear this, but I’ve seen you. All of you. I’m not just referencing those secret places everyone has, the bits that everyone covers no matter the fact that we all have them. No, I’m talking about those silent places deep inside that are somehow much more intimate than this old nude I found of you. You’ve changed by the way, but I still like to look at you. I think…no, I know you used to like to look at me too. I would wager that you still do and if I could look into those eyes of yours right now. Heh, I wonder…would I be strong enough to resist that smile?

I think the answer would be no. Even now, when the distance between us is already more than I can stand. Even now, when I feel like I finally have your full attention after all this time. And look at all that it took. Just one instant and so many lives are changed. Not just yours or mine, or his.

No, don’t think about him. Him. It. He was someone before but what is he now? Just a bit of bones and rotting flesh but then isn’t that what we all are?

Wait! I know you tire of these games. you want facts. Cold and hard and I bet you want them to mirror that look that plays in your eyes when you look at me. Don’t think I don’t see it, that hint of disgust. Well, you’ll get your facts. And I’ll start with his name but I bet you already knew it, now, don’t you?

The moon is high above us and you’re probably wondering how you got here, standing in these darkened woods when it seems like just moments ago you were safe and secure in your home. Now…now your eyes are nearly as big as the moon as you stare at me and damn it what I really want is for you to stare at me like you used to before! No, don’t shake your head. You did look at me with affection and…and…I’m sorry. Please, let’s start over. Don’t leave. Not now when we were just starting to get somewhere.

I notice you haven’t reached for your phone yet, that means you must want to listen to what I have to say. I know I’ve been talking a lot, heh and I know you hate it when people say things like “kinda” and “a lot” and isn’t it funny how you don’t have to know someone very long before you start to notice little quirks about them? I notice all your quirks.

So go on then, say the name. Scream it, or whisper it softly in your head. It doesn’t matter how you say it, simply that you acknowledge who he is–who he was.

I don’t think it’s my imagination once you start to tremble. it must be the chill to this evening air. And you are here with me, aren’t you?

“He was my best friend.” That’s what you choose to whisper.

Your confession makes me smile.

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I must admit I am startled by the sadness in your voice, the way it catches in on itself, raising in pitch before collapsing like a hiccup. The words are difficult for you, most likely something you thought you would never be forced to say aloud. You shouldn’t be confused by my lack of remorse. I still believe it was you who made me this way. You who made all of us into what we are now. Him, rotting bits of flesh, and us: his murderers.

Sometimes best friends meddle too much, though, don’t they?

And sometimes, it just doesn’t end well for them.

It is silent now. Silent, except the sound of your breath mimicking the rise and fall of your chest in the moonlight. I bet at this moment you are wondering how I did it. You still can’t bring yourself to look at the body, despite the fact that just moments ago you had thought him...it safe and back in the confines of their home.

I suppose it is asking too much now. I mean, you technically never asked for me to do this…and maybe…maybe I’m willing to admit I was hasty in my actions. Maybe I don’t know know those secrets part of you. Well, it’s done now and the only thing to do now is hand you this shovel.

Dig…to be continued!

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Thanks for tuning in for another segment of Your Story! Special thanks to Cari Jehlik for the meddling friend dialogue. If any of y’all have anything you would like to see included in next week’s installment simply comment it below! Thanks for reading 🙂