I can see his face in my mind still. It has been imprinted in my head and in my heart and I don't think it matters how much time passes or how much I try, his face will always be there in my mind.
It was like my brain had taken a photograph of him and hung it in my senses. I can see his pain, I can feel it. Relate to it. I imagine it like it is mine. I feel the pangs envelope me. It covers me, it weakens me just like it did him.
I cry even if I try not to, even when I try not to I cry, because he should have been saved. Because I should have saved him if I wasn't just as weak. Because he was mine to save and I failed. I failed woefully and I cannot even begin to forgive myself for such failure.
Maybe I should be angry at him too, for leaving me alone in this cruel world with cruel people and cruel lies. For not fighting off the pain or sulking it up like I've done all this years. But I know that it is not his fault that the pain refused to go away. His death was his own twisted form of revenge against those who brought him pain, but he still could have been saved. I refuse to believe otherwise.
Those who haven't felt true pain will not understand the kind of pain that consumed him. They will say, "he shouldn't have," or "he was weak," or "he should have sought for help." Or that "Suicide is not an option." I laugh at this because they don't understand, yet they speak like they do. Hypocrites, ignorant judgemental lots. I laugh bitterly, typical of humans.
They didn't understand, I did because soon his demons became mine and they started to haunt me like I was him. It was as if overtime they knew no longer the difference between I and him. Or maybe my demons and his corroborated. They wanted to end one of us. I had earlier believed that I would be the one to go, but he took me by surprise. He left instead.
He was the sun and I was the moon. I was surrounded by darkness and he was surrounded by light. Yet, he couldn't outshine the dark but I could. Maybe because darkness is the only thing that can extinguish darkness contrary to popular opinion because then there is understanding and both become one. So yes, I became one with my demons I embraced them, but he couldn't do the same.
I understand. Of course I understand him. I have to.
His pain was the kind that set you ablaze from the inside. A pain that growls from within the soul, the kind that mixes with your blood. That begins to flow in your veins. The kind that chokes you. The kind that kills you.
Daggers to the heart could not be compared to the pain he felt. I know this because I watched him. I was there when he left. I was there and I saw, I saw his eyes. I'll never forget them because they also haunt me each night.
These demons they've transformed me. I no longer know what I am, or who I am. I have become too twisted. And I live each day like this. Each they wishing to see him again, to join him. To be as brave as he was and end it all.
But unlike him I am a coward.
I knew so much about life, so much about death, I knew so much. Yet, I was only a teen. What would happen if years start to heap up.
I'm scared of myself and the thoughts in my head.
Then again he wasn't my only demon. There was another. Another that was just a powerful, just as intimidating, just as strong. My sister.
Unlike most people think, rape victims do suffer more pain than you can ever imagine especially when it is by someone they think would protect them someone they trust or look up to. I know this because my sister is one sadly.
Her fear for men made me stay away from them also. She made me fear that which she feared by painting a picture so monstrous of this fear I couldn't resist it. Yet, I looked up to my sister she was my own Angel. An Angel that was defiled.
It's funny. It's funny the demons hidden underneath our skin. Demons so well hidden they merge with the skin.
The year before I am to graduate from highschool will be the toughest for me. It is going to be this year. I will graduate this year. Probably he too will fall in love with me as I have been in love with him. Then we will have our first sex. Probably I'll learn to be normal. Hopefully. I have put all my hope in him. In his brown alluring eyes.
I was the brightest student in my class I still am. I have always been the brightest student since I started school right from pre-nursery.
You want to know why? I will tell you. I have a photographic memory. I never forget. Never.
It was so bad that I couldn't place correctly roads because as long as I had passed a road before I recognized it. They all looked familiar to me because I remembered all, no matter how fast we were driving when I passed the road. Do you know the problem with having a photographic memory is? You don't forget.
He had been in the same class with me for so many years from kindergarten up until Senior year but I never took a liking to him until the day he smiled at me so secretly, so discreetly. That day my heart skipped a beat and it continued to skip that one beat anytime I saw him from that day onwards. His smile awoke something human in me. Something I thought was dead.
It was like he felt my pain and was consoling me with a smile of hope. Or maybe I was so delusional, so in need of saving I looked upon every little gesture as one coming from an Angel sent to me from God because it sure was about time he sent one.
Sadly, he was in love with another. And right now I couldn't help but wonder if I would die from so much pain. They just keep piling up.
"Good morning class." Mr Jacob greeted immediately he stepped into the class room. Infact he was still by the door.
Mr Jacob was a bald man with a big stomach. He was short with a nicely shaved moustache and big nose which made his eyes look smaller than it was. He was our principal.
I wondered why he came to our class today, since it was rare_him coming to my class. He came to my class only when there was a problem which he wanted to address strictly.
Could there have been a problem this morning maybe with the transfer student who was a commoner? I heard her name was Arabella.
Since I wasn't in her class and a class ahead of her I didn't have the opportunity of seeing her. There has been so much ruckus and gossip about the scholarship giving to an undeserving commoner. I dared not join them since I too was not among the class of the aristocrats.
I wondered what she looked like since It was not every day that I got to see a really poor person.
"Good day sir." We answered back standing up to acknowledge his presence.
He smiled at my teacher while he waved at us to sit down. He shook hands with her, while she smiled back. A girl scoffed behind me and made a snide remark which I didn't quite catch but the other girls by her side giggled softly.
The teacher bowed her head slightly. I felt that she was being too extra but I didn't quite blame her. She was the only female teacher that taught us. Short, petite but strict she was a little old with grey hairs but they fit her so well especially when she braided them.
It was when the principal started to address the class that I saw the boy standing behind him. He had a smirk on his face, one I could not place. One that scared me and yet for some reason elated me. He looked, he looked, for want of words I will say that he looked spectacular.
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