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I raise my head off the tarmac when I feel a malicious tap on my head, no doubt from the evil-twin raindrops that have been doing everything in their power to drown me this afternoon. Of course, I should have known better than to walk after school, through the pouring rain, in a pair of thin-soled white canvas shoes. But the alternative was busying myself with my dark thoughts for the eighth time, and I knew I'd have a much better chance of actually getting the buzz of a walk, even if I was soaked to the bone when I got home.
I push myself off the tarmac and begin a slow jog home.
It could have been a car that ran over me, or a tree branch. I honestly don't know what it was. It was dark, the rain was pouring down, and my vision was blurred. I was totally cut off from the outside world, and despite what I was in the middle of, I was unaware of it.
I ran into the house and stopped, gasping for breath. I could feel the drops of rain pelt my face, coating my cheeks and neck in lukewarm pearl-like rain water. I put my hands over my face, but the water still came. I started to cough and gasp, but the more I coughed, the more the water came. The more I gasped, the more water came out.
I don't think I've ever felt so hot in my life. I'd been too embarrassed to wear a sweater, so I had only one choice. My shirt was thin and thin to begin with, but eight hours outside in the biting cold rain had chilled me, causing me to shiver. Hiding myself beneath my bed sheets, I pulled them over my head and waited for the water to stop.
Then something caught my eye. I could vaguely make out the silhouette of my room. A pair of boots stood in front of my closet up against the wall. I had left no lights on, which meant that I was coming down with a cold. When I was sick, the electricity in my house would go nuts. I was pretty imaginative, and I saw all sorts of spooky things in my room, like evil floating grinning faces, but when I got older, of course, I realized they were just my toys coming to life, but at the time it often scared me half to death. Goosebumps crawled up my skin, causing shivers to run through me as I breathed ragged, labored breaths.
I found myself weeping quietly, muffling my sobs, trying not to be heard.
I wish I could say that I had gotten off so easy. I wish I could say that I had been attacked by some serial killer monster. I wish. But the truth is that I wasn't the one who was murdered.
He was.
And now I have to tell his story, his last story.
I never could have forecast this story in my wildest dreams, and yet I can't call it a disappointment, since I now know what it is I've done. I'm determined to make sure this doesn't happen again...