the story

The day is coming closer now. That horrible day all those years ago. A day that will haunt my memories for as long as I live and maybe even after that. Even as I am sitting here now I still feel as if I am trapt in that moment. So many years ago.

When I was younger I was careless with my life, maybe that is because I didn’t want it. I didn’t care wether I was alive or not. I drank, snuck out of the house to go out to parties, did some drugs. I know it was because I didn’t know how to handle the things that I was going through at the time. It was my way of coping. I made a friend one night at this party. I don’t remember where I was, I don’t remember a lot of that day, but I do remember . . . . Dustin. Just reading his name on the screen brings tears to my eyes. Dustin was . . . beautiful and that doesn’t even do him justice. He had dark hair and these electric blue eyes. I have never seen anyone with eyes like that. He could look at me and I would feel surrounded by him, safe. That was a bad night for me, but he made sure that I got home. From then on I owould go see him every night. I found out that he was a runaway. He was living in some home when we first met, but that didn’t last long. He eventually got kicked out. He found a place to stay closer to where I lived, but it was some abandoned building and he refused to tell me where it was. He said that it was too dangerous for me.

Time went on. I would go out to parties with him, I would bring him food, I would do anything that I could to be around him. I loved him, and even though we never ended up together, I know that he loved me too. We were so close. I was young at the time, I didn’t know of anyway to help him other then spending time with him. He used to tell me that just looking at me would make all his problems and worries disappear. Oh did I love him. Then one night when I snuck out yet again to meet him at a party I saw bruises. He said that he had gotten into a fight, something about drinking or drugs, I don’t remember exactly what. He said that he was jumped, but that everything was ok. He told me that he worked everything out and the cuts and bruises were just to make sure the deal was set. I told him it was time for him to get out of town. He refused. I was scared.

I thought about telling my parents, but then I would end up telling them everything and I knew that I would never be allowed to do anything if they knew the truth about their precious first daughter. I kept my mouth shut. I will always hate myself for it.

We had been best friends for a couple months, which is a long time for anything when you are a runaway. I told him that I would run with him, we could find some place safe, we could make everything work out because we were stronger together. He told me my life was too important and that if either of us was going to amount to anything that it would be me.

That night. . . I had such a horrible feeling. It was freezing outside. I ran all the way to the place where we always met. At first I couldn’t find him. There were hardly any people left in the building and those who remained were  yelling, screaming, I knew it. Something horrible had happened. Dustin. . .

I finally found him, hunched over in a cornor. . . bleeding. Whatever the problem had been, the one he told me he had taken care of, it hadn’t been resolved. The same people that jumped him before came back to finish what they started. They had stabbed him repeatedly. There was so much blood. I was surprised that he was still conscious. He looked at me, those once electric eyes now growing dim and lifeless. He told me to run. There were sirens blaring off in the distance. The police were on their way. He told me that I was the best friend that he ever had. He told me that he had loved me from the day he saw me, but he didn’t want to hold me back. He didn’t want me to end up like him, with no place to stay, no where to call home. He pulled me close, he looked deep in my eyes and kissed me. He made me promise that I would get away, that I wouldn’t get caught. He made me leave him there. I never should have listened. . . I never should have left him. . .

He died alone that night. I did get away. I hate myself for it everyday.

I tried to go on with my life. I don’t know what the police did with him. He had no identification. A John Doe. I had to pretend that everything was okay. Dustin and everything that went along with him, it was a side of me that no one knew. It was awful. I never felt more alone in my entire life. I miss him everyday. His face, his eyes, his smile, his laugh. . . I still hate myself for leaving him, alone. . .

Am I a horrible person?