Drowned on the Floor

I drowned on the floor of the bar that night.

I'm sure some of you know that feeling when you know you're about to die, and your life flashes before your eyes. The hero in this situation doesn't give up, and they come up strong in the end. But I'm not a hero, and I am nor great or strong, and in reality, there are no heroes. Just hearts in the right place. But there were no good hearts in the right place at the right time for me. I guess I wasn't worth it.

I should have known.

The streetlights flickered on as I walked down the pavement, I could hear loud music in the distance, I was getting closer. I heard you were going to the bar, which Courtney had reserved for the party, and that was the only reason I went. Everything I head about you was perfect, everything was good and sweet and charming, and I needed someone like that to tell me they cared, someone wonderful. Someone like you.

It was a mistake.

I entered the bar, with one hand in my pocket and the other on the door handle, and I was a shadow in the dark. I was a ghost, I was invisible. I searched the night away for you, and once I found you, I put on a mask, and shook my hood off and put on a big smile. You bought it, you were smiling too, and you were alone in a corner of the room with a bottle of alcohol in your hand, it was full. You called my name, and I called yours, and your smile fell.

I hate you.

You read me like an open book. I felt uneasy around you, and you said the vivid blueness of my eyes had sunk lower and lower the past few months, and that you were sorry for having let everything happen. I told you I didn't know what you were talking about, and the corners of my lips fell, and my smile shook awkwardly. You touched me, your hand was cold and clammy, or warm and comforting, I wasn't sure, because I was afraid.

I wished I were dead.

I wrote on the walls, I screamed, I disappeared, I cried, I blended in, all throughout the school year, and you noticed it. Why did you have to tell me so late? Now I can never be with you, because you will get married without me, and have children without me, and grow old without me. That was supposed to be me, when I died, I saw the life I was supposed to live, and my heart ached. When tears finally dripped from my eyes and my smile faded away completely, you wrapped me with your arms, and I felt happiness for the first time in months.

I understood.

The music was drowned out, and I saw you crying as well. You lifted your sleeve to show red cuts, and I lifted my sleeve to show mine, and I knew you were the one who screamed and cried and wrote those beautifully tragic poems all over the school. Why were you so good at life? Then I heard shouting, and we both looked up. I heard someone shout something loud, and I saw something silver glint and gleam in his hand, and I recognized it. Another man had something sleek and black in his hand, and I saw him pull the trigger at you when we didn't drop to the floor.

Life came crashing down.

I pushed you aside, and... I don't know what happened next. You shouted loud, but the music drowned it out, and the screams, so many screams. The last word I remember you said was, "sorry," and I tried to shake my head, and tell you... well... I don't remember what I was going to tell you anymore, but I know you survived the shooting, and knowing you survived and I didn't, I wished I were alive. I wondered what I did wrong, and I watched you day and night, as you cut stories in your skin, and I watched you bleed.

I'm so, so sorry.