They Said

He meant nothing more to me than a partner in crime.

She meant nothing more to me than a person to talk to.

I meant nothing more to him than a person to talk to.

I meant nothing more to her than a partner in crime.

That’s all I ever wanted it to be. That’s only what it ever needed to be. He would be there when I wanted to go out and drive, just move away from my home. See I had problems, just not as bad as his. Mine just consisted of a single, alcoholic and drug abuser of a father, him.... he had neither a mother or a father. He lived by himself in the sketchiest part of town. He was scared all the time. Never sure if he would get home safe, and even if he was home he never felt safe. So, he would stay with me. We would share a bed, my door was always locked and my father couldn't be bothered to try to get in... that is if he is partially sober. I was scared of him, his anger.

She was scared of him, his anger. I would go to her house and stay with her if I felt too unsafe. I wish I was safer, I wish the roof over my head was more than a thin layer of protection. Her home however, was covered in steel, she would never be able to leave. There would be nights I would stay and her father would stand outside of her door screaming, swearing, trying to break it down. She would pretend to sleep beside me, but I could feel her body shake every time he would run into the door. I would wrap my arm around her, making sure I didn’t brush too hard on her bruises from the nights he actually got at her. She was there for me too though, I would drive her anywhere she wanted. We would steal her dad’s car and go. And when I wanted to talk she would find a way to talk.

There are times where I wonder if he feels we are more. I wonder what would happen if we were more.

She feels like we are more sometimes, and it makes me wonder what would ever happen if we were more? Would it be awkward?

I mean we have never kissed, nothing like that we both just share my bed. He appreciates it, he never sleeps in a bed, just a sleeping bag in his thin home.

She’s a nice girl, there is nothing to it, we have never done anything except share a bed together. But, I can’t think about spending a night in a bed without her. She has a small body, thin and curvy. She always curls up in fetal position, her beautiful brown hair covers her back. Whenever she wakes up from a nightmare, her gray eyes shine in the light. Her... eyes.

He’s been my friend for too long, I know too much about him. I have seen him already, I am familiar with his build, his broad shoulders and back, his large forearms. The way they wrap around me every night my father comes home drunk, or high off of white powdery substances. It’s the way they make me feel, almost as if, if father did break in I wouldn’t get hurt.... because he’s there. He is always there, always has and always with... does that mean...

She has been with me forever...

Forever... I wonder what it would be like without him

I wonder what it would be like without her. Would I be alive. Where would I seek refuge from my cardboard home on nights that the weather is bad, or too many people are crowding around my home. Where would I be if she wasn’t there to talk.

A life without him.... I can’t even think about it. I wouldn’t be here. I would have no one. He’s saved me, those drives, and just sitting with him, or his arms around my body smothering me in his scent.... a life without those... impossible. But what does that mean?

Maybe this is it... she is already there, I’ve known her for too long to let her go.

It means nothing, I can’t think like that. What if he doesn’t feel the same way, it would be humiliating. There’s Father again, banging on my door. It seems worse today. It doesn’t sound like cocaine or liquor, it sounds more like a lack of cocaine and liquor. He’s really yelling now.... he wants money. I’m scared.

I’m going to tell her, I need too otherwise I will never get a chance to do it again. I want her, she is the only thing that matters. I have nothing, she’s the only thing I’ve got.

Father’s going to break in, my lock is down. I need him to be here now.... where is he!!! Help!!

Her house is empty. Or at least it seems like it seems like it. HIs car isn’t there, I don’t usually use the front door but he won’t be here to bother me. I open the door, it isn’t usually locked... the house is destroyed. Furniture overturned, the T.V destroyed, glasses in the kitchen broken and his box where he usually hides his money and stash is empty.... where is she. I call out her name.... no response. I walk around some more until I step on something. I look down, it’s a knife.... covered in blood and beside it her wallet. My heart starts pounding, I run upstairs calling her name. There is no reply, until I reach her room. The door is partially closed the frame snapped from forced entry. I gently push the door open.

Before
Father’s in, he’s sweating, eye’s bloodshot, and he’s shaking. Father looks like an animal looking for a meal. I start to shake, only wishing he was here, wrapping his arms around me defending me, I’m only expecting him to burst through the door now and take me away. Father rushes over to me, too late. He starts shaking me asking for money, I wince in pain. He punches me and asks for money again. I squeal, trying to reach for something to hit him with. He starts yelling obscenities, nothing that makes sense. Father punches me and continue to kick me. I scream and he kicks me once more, I can feel something pop inside of me and my eyes shoot open, the pain stops me from screaming, only tears reveal my pain and when I cough blood spurts out of my mouth. When I look up Father is standing over me with a knife.... where is he, I need him. I love him and I need him. I have always loved him, I’m not ready to die without telling him this. Father leans over and asks me once more for money, I reach for my wallet and when I give it to him and he only sees a five dollar bill he is enraged. He leaves down calls me a bitch and then the knife plunges deep into my heart and I feel nothing but my soul reach out through my stomach to my mouth, releasing the only sound I could make, I love you. Father walks away leaving me there, and all I can hear is him swearing leaving the house and driving away. He was never coming back.

Now

Her body mangled, her gray eyes wide open pupils dilated, she’s not breathing.... she’s not breathing. I leave over to her, breathing in her smell, feeling my tears slowly drip onto her face and I whisper I love you.

I love him.

I love her.

Forever and always.

Forever and always.