I lay on my bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about everything. Her voice sounded in my ears and her face was a constant fixture before me. It was all my fault. I had done this to her, and her family. I had put her where she was now-in the cold dark hard ground. My selfishness had taken her life from her. I had killed her.
Two weeks ago today was when it all started. It was then that I held her hand in mine, and led her across the road. I led her down that alleyway, where the others were enveloped in a thick cloud of smoke. Her grip tightened on my hand and I knew she was afraid. She turned her face towards me and I could see the fear that her sparkling chestnut eyes contained.
I should have turned around at that point. I should have told her that it was okay, and that she didn’t need to meet my friends. I should have explained that they were my past and that she, this vision of beauty before me, was my future.
But I didn’t explain, and I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to. I wanted her to know where I came from. I wanted her to know who I had been before she came into my life and changed everything. She knew this and so when I told her where I was going, she came with me. She had always understood me and I loved her for it.