Forgiveness

            “I don’t like this part. Hollywood makes it seem so minor by making it a montage of short clips over a span of 3 minutes while a Sharon Van Etten song plays in the background. It’s bullshit. All of it. Those 3 minutes seem short, but they don’t explain to you that it could be a couple of days, weeks, or even years. Hell, decades if you’re lucky enough. Just 3 minutes. If only this part could last 3 minutes. By the time I finish this drink, all my problems should go away right? Doesn’t matter. None of it does.”

            The bartender always looks at me with a face that both wishes he could ignore me yet not wanting to seem rude for the sake of getting a bigger tip if he pays attention. But I can see through his shit. Like always. He knows it, I know it. Doesn’t make the world any better. Certainly doesn’t make his tip any better. Rude, right? Why give him more money for simply listening to my agony? That’s what my therapist is for anyways.

            1:16 right now. The night is barely getting started. What oh what could I do tonight? Drink till I forget maybe? How about another tattoo? God only knows how many I could remember getting. There’s also the obvious. I bet if my bed could speak it would tell me to use him more. Yeah, that’s right. My bed is a he.

            No. My night is going to be the same as most nights have been lately. I might as well call this place my second home. Third actually. Rotating from job to bar to house. Never ending cycle of the American Dream. It isn’t so bad. At least I live in the greatest country in the world, according to my inbred neighbors.

            My pen is starting to run out of ink. The pages on my notebook are getting that crusty kind of look and feel to it now. You know the one I’m talking about. Where every page is being used, front and back, to the point that it affects the entire notebook altogether. A little smudge here and there of spilled whiskey. I can always spot the alcoholics outside the bar when they find joy in the smell of it.

            “You know, Gabriel Marcel was the first philosopher to coin the term existentialism. Sartre simply over analyzed it. You think either of those men were happy? Despite the breakthrough they gave to mankind, you think they would go home and be happy? Genuine happiness seems more like a myth rather than an actual emotion now. I mean, look at those three girls over there. You think they’re genuinely happy? You think Becky, Brittany, and Jennifer are having “one of those nights you never forget”? Cause their Instagram photos will probably say it is. Yet, here I sit, no more than 15 feet away from them, wanting to forget this night. I’ll probably forget it in a couple of hours, but it’ll still be written on these pages. Work in progress I suppose.”

            I always hated bars. They just never made sense to me. But they have given me some great ideas. I should probably put that on the front of my book. “To my friend, barstool number 4 and 7 shots of Jameson. And everyone else.” Petty? Maybe, but it’s my book.

In a couple of months, hundreds of people will read my book and find meaning in it. I’ll have a book release on a hipster-based book store, where groups of millennials will sit there, watching me mumble pages of my book at them, as if they’re ever going to look at that video recording after tonight. Some will come talk to me after the reading is over and tell me how much they loved the book and how they wish there were “more people” out there like me. I have to seem mildly interested in whatever the fuck they’re telling me because Olivia wants to know how I find inspiration in this world because, she too is wanting to become an author. So, I’ll give her a few pointers and ideas on how to write, without sounding so pessimistic, even though I can feel the bullshit slipping through my teeth. A nod here and there in agreement of what I have to say, as if they’ve never heard this shit before. Then, before they go, they’ll ask to take a photo with me. Post it online a couple minutes later, maybe the next day and that’s it.

“Edgar Allan Poe tried to fuck his own cousin. Did you know that? Or something like that. One of the greatest writers in the world. His work lives on with the powerful imagery he created through his words and the theme that’s portrayed throughout all of his work. A borderline sociopath in some people’s eyes, yes. But a beautiful writer, nonetheless. Do you think a man like that could be happy? Do you think a man who has it made can be able to write such hauntingly passionate literature that can have such significance on the world itself? No. You need tragedy. You need misery. You need that darkness. For Poe, he needed to fuck his own cousin. Well, maybe not exactly that, but that had to affect him in some kind of way.”

2:09 now. The bar closes at 3 and yet I people are walking in with bright faces, as if the party barely started. I mean, what exactly are they going to do for 50 minutes? Catch up with old friends? Have a few overprized drinks to have a good time? Try to see if they can score with the opposite sex in that time? I just never found the point in that. Even when I hanged out with my friends. The bar opens around 7 and they serve the same drinks the whole time. It’s not like anything different happens within the last hour of the night.

It was always the same with my friends. We would do literally absolutely nothing for hours but wait. The girls would spend hours getting dressed, making sure they looked pretty enough to get men to want to fuck them but not actually do anything. Like cooking in front of a homeless man. The implication is that you’ll eventually give the man the food, but instead you go home and eat it yourself. But anyways, by the time everyone was set, there would be an hour and a half remaining at every single bar we went to, all of them packed for some reason. I always ordered just one drink. Not that I didn’t want to drink but I could tell that no one wanted to be the designated driver.

So, we would all find a table or a corner or any available space and just huddle in a circle, slowly sipping our drinks, some faster than others, while simply talking to each other, like we couldn’t fucking do so somewhere else. No, it must be here. This place has alcohol. Occasionally, one or two friends would separate and try to socialize with someone else, as if they hoped to make friends this way. Some of the girls would be approached by men, watching the food being cooked, hoping to take a nibble. Flattered they always seemed, accepting any free drink they were handed, but again, always taking the food home. One girl did let the guy eat off her plate once, but they don’t hang out with her anymore. I wonder why.

The bartender would yell that it’s closing time, and everyone would yell ‘aww’, as if they didn’t know this was going to happen. Everyone would hug each other, say their last goodbyes, only to hang out together again in a couple of days. I would always wait outside by the door, looking at everyone else get into their cars and go their separate ways. My friends would finally come out and get into the car. The ride home was always quiet, with my choice of music in the background. The ones in the back seat would be asleep while the one in front would try to stay awake, I guess for my benefit. And that was it. Another successful night that “only brought us closer.”

“3 pages. I gotta say, that ain’t too bad. And I only hated myself twice tonight. I’m crossing my fingers for just once tomorrow. I really gotta learn how not to spill my stupid drink.”

2:57. The bartender has already yelled last call. Half the crowd has already left. The others are finishing up their goodbyes and drinks. The trifecta is still there, all looking down on their phones while simultaneously telling each other how much fun they had, and how they should do this much more often. If this is their definition of fun, then I don’t want to know what exactly they do on their own time.

One bartender is putting up the chairs while the other is cleaning up the bar that I’m still writing on. He never tells me to fuck off, but if those eyes could talk. He already took my glass and is cleaning around me in such a passively aggressive way. “One more for the road?”, I jokingly say. He looks at me for a split second, giving me a forced chuckle, anxiously waiting for me to finish writing down my tip on the receipt, which he knows he’s going to be disappointed in. But I know he’s more concerned in me just getting out. That’s always my trick. Make him focus on closing that the tip simply seems meaningless. But it never works. I get a laugh about it. Him, not so much.

“You know, you should thank me. When this book gets picked up to be a movie, I’m going to force the executives to film in this bar. It must be genuine. It must be where it all started. And you’re going to be thanking me for bringing in all this fame and glory to you.”

He mumbles “fuck you” underneath his breath, like as if it’s going to offend me if he actually tells it to my face. Frankly I’m more offended that he doesn’t trust me enough to say it to my face.

“Tell your mom I said hi from me. You gotta treat her right. She’s one of the good ones. Just like you. Goodnight.”

I blame my father for my high tolerance of alcohol. For once I wish I couldn’t make out the road in front of me. I know, how selfish of me to drive drunk. I know I’m not going to. I’m depressed, not arrogant. Still, for once I wish I could forget the night. I know what I said earlier, but I’m a writer. Do you really think I’m ever going to be completely honest?

The roads always look quiet this time of night. As if I’m the first person to ever drive on them. Radiohead is playing in my car, like a broken record of pure self-loathing. My publisher tells me to get rid of that CD, but I always tell him that as long as I keep writing, that disc stays. He doesn’t say much after that. He is, after all, making money off of me. I know right? We’re all assholes, one way or another.

I can hear my bed crying my name the minute I enter my house. I don’t know why I keep my house so clean all the time. Nobody ever comes in. My publisher was surprised the first time he stopped by. I don’t blame him. He probably imagined it was as dysfunctional as my writing. “Usually you can tell the inspiration behind someone’s writing based on their home”, he tells me.

I do have inspiration. The same inspiration that motivates the paraplegic to enter a 5K. Or that pushes a mother of 3 to finish school to get a better job. Hell, even the same inspiration that gave Jim Jones the idea to start a cult to commit a mass murder/suicide.

It’s hope that I don’t have. There’s no reason to sugarcoat things. It’s not like I’m going to kill myself. God no. I have a deadline and I just know that my publisher will be pissed and refuse to hand out the invitations to my funeral.

The moonlight is shining through my bedroom window, creating a setting in my room that’s only missing a poor, old miserable man who never amounted to anything in his life. Besides the old part, I would say it’s right on the money. That’s why it’s my house.

It was never my intention to get a house that had a backyard. I knew I was never going to use it, but it’s still nice to lay on the grass once in a while. Seeing the sky on a night like this always gives me a type of goosebumps that I felt once before, not so long ago. Only there was someone else lying beside me.

That’s about as depressing as I’ll get tonight. No point in bringing down the mood, as if it wasn’t already. But I’ll lay down here for a bit. Orion is the constellation I can always see in the sky, no matter what the night is like. A warrior. There’s irony there somewhere, I’m just way too exhausted to figure it out right now.

Why do I always come back to the same feeling, the same state of mind, every single night before bed? I used to think it was so I could remember. Remember everything. My family. My friends. And her. Now, I think it helps reset the brain to continue writing tomorrow. If I take too long of a break, I know I’m going to fuck this book up.

There’s no point in trying, I always say. No point in asking for forgiveness. I missed the boat for that a long time ago. Still, here I stand on the shore, hoping it’ll return one day.

Oh well. Now I’m getting tired. Here’s to hoping that this year will be better than all the ones before. And crossing my fingers that tomorrow’s a new. Maybe I’ll do something exciting. Maybe I’ll sit on barstool number 5 and drink Jägermeister instead. Who knows? All I know is that every night is one of those nights I never forget.

Redemption

            My name is Damian Jones, or DJ for short. I know, how original. I’ve been a journalist for years now. I’ve moved around from company to company, never settling down with one. Some say that longevity gives you a credible reputation. I say fuck it. There’s too much to see and do to remain monogamous with someone who offers you a retirement plan.

In my time as a journalist I’ve written hundreds of articles. From the mundane to the existential. I was a great writer, though I was never satisfied with the types of topics I was given. So, from time to time, I would stir the pot. It’s crucial to never be opiniated when it comes to writing about something of importance to people. I, on the other hand, felt that a little chaos might make things more interesting. Ergo me having to move constantly.

But the article that I’m writing about today is not about me. Rather the contrary. I just wanted to tell you a little bit about myself before you continue. Don’t worry, this will all make sense. I’m not just writing for the sake of self-validation. I have more than enough memoirs to tell me that.

As I stated, I moved around a lot, eventually landing a job at this great company. I will not tell you the name, though it does rhyme with The Mall Breed Kernel. With this job, I was given the opportunity to travel around and interview people based on whatever topic I received. Some days I would talk to a nice lady about why she’s racist. Other times I would have to confront a group of gun lovers ready to shoot me on command. But it was a thrill nonetheless to be out in the world, rather than having to spend my day in a cubicle. That is until I received my last topic.

I’ve said this numerous of times and I’ll say it again: at the end of the day, money talks. There’s nothing else I can add to that. So, when I received the assignment, it was clear that this was already a biased story, with intend that it would clear some rather rich men from the smoke that they had been under. The only reason why I was given this said assignment was because my (now former) manager had found out about my little “tweaks” and felt that I could make a story like this turn readers away from their opposition.

Before I continue, I just want to say that I am no longer affiliated with any company or organization. As of now, I am my own independent writer with no intention of going back to the world of corporation. The money talks, but after a while, you’ll start seeing how much blood there really is.

The story that I was supposed to write about was about a group of men who either owned prisons or had a fair share stake in them. These men had been in some legal trouble for the last few months over some documents that were leaked to the press. These documents had reports and written commentary that detailed the cuts to funding they had made to their prisons in order to save of couple thousands. Cuts to humane needs such as hygienic products and medicine. Aside from that, they were also noted on keeping prisoners longer than their intended stay by sabotaging their record. According to the leaked files, prisoners stated that the guards would place a weapon of some sort in the bed of an inmate who was scheduled to depart soon. The following day, a “random” inspection would occur, and the prisoner’s sentence would be extended.

Now, why would they do this you may ask? Well, if you’re completely unaware, most private owned prisons make money to the owner/investor. It usually starts by bringing in a new activity to the prison such as shoe making. This activity is sold to the prisoners as a way of earning a couple cents to their in-home bank account. The prisoners do the work for scraps while the owner makes profit for cheap labor. In a way, it’s the equivalent to borderline slavery.

This doesn’t look well from the outside in. And truth be told, it isn’t. The labor doesn’t take away from their sentence, nor does it give them a real-world skill that they can use once they leave. All it’s doing is making money to the owner, while simultaneously cutting funding to the prison.

Which is where I come in. After some research, it was clear that my manager had his hands in the industry. And the men I needed to clear were people he knew all too well. And since I can make Lucifer’s actions justified, he figured I could do the same with this.

My job was simple: write an article about how the leaked files were complete bullshit and prove that the prisons were doing much better than what was rumored. In addition, I was to travel to four prisons that were on the files in order to debunk the accusations. I was never specified on what I was supposed to do at the prisons, other than gather information and take a couple of photos to prove wrong the false accusations. I was only granted one visit to each prison, so I knew that I had to make it count.

So, I began to do my research. I wanted to make sure that whatever I was about to lie about wouldn’t come and bite me in the ass in the long run. I was instructed to bury any evidence I found to be demeaning. Which would’ve been fine, if I hadn’t run out of floor. Indeed, the more I found, the more I started to realize how wrong this article would become. It would forgive men who don’t deserve a single drop of forgiveness, and it would only continue the mistreatment of humans who’ve paid more than their dues.

These men would be completely exonerated from actions that would make the Devil cry. And though I’m only the writer, I knew that whatever happened to the prisoners would also be on me. That’s when I decided to shift the focus of the story. I no longer had interest in what I was going to be paid more than fair to write about.

It’s been two weeks since I left the company. Judging from what I’ve read, it seems as if someone else picked up the story regardless. What I’ve been seeing on the news is what I feared would happen. Those who have power can create the history they want. And though I was a part of that, I can no longer stay in the shadows.

Before I left, I decided to visit the prisons. Seeing how I was still granted permission, it only felt appropriate to take the offer. There, I met five inmates who were weeks away from being released. These inmates all performed criminal acts, some worse than others. But all felt that their time of redemption was forthcoming. They agreed to meet with me and interview before they got their chance at a new life.

I thought about what I would ask them before I went. I thought about whether I should bring up the accusations that were being laid upon their landlords, or if they’ve heard of anything at all. I considered asking them whether the reports of them being mistreated were true. I even felt as if I should get their opinion on the accusations being made on the guards.

But none of that felt important. I kept seeing this from a reporter’s point of view, when I knew I had to see if from my own. I wanted to talk to these inmates just the same as I would with my brother. This story was no longer about the corruption and the men behind it. Because whatever it is that they’re being accused of doing, they completely did it. The evidence is all there. It shouldn’t take a writer like myself to tell you what’s real and what isn’t. Like my mother always said: if it looks like shit, and it smells like shit, it’s most definitely shit.

No, instead I want to share with you the real stories behind the people we lock behind bars. Because that’s what should really matter now. We’re drawing the attention to these businessmen, when in fact we should be facing the cameras to the ones in orange.

To make things easier, I constructed a set of questions that I would ask each inmate. The questions are as follow:

Why are you in here?

How long have you been here?

What are you going to do when you get out?

Do you think you deserve to be in here?

These questions are the only thing I asked. Nothing more, nothing less. I wanted to know these people and what they really felt being on the inside for so many years. And with these questions, I got to know them in a way I never believed I would. And I’m hopeful that maybe you’ll be able to see that too. These people may be criminals, but that doesn’t mean they’re not any more human than we are.

That being said, what you’re about to read below are the interviews I performed. Nothing has been edited out. I simply recorded everything they needed to say and wrote it down. If by any chance, you believe that I made some of this stuff up, then you’re clearly still in the opposition. As I said, this article isn’t about the men I was originally instructed to write about anymore. Because those men are guilty as can be. There’s no denying that.

I hope you’ll be able to read this with an open mind. I hope you’ll see what these people go through as well. And most importantly, I hope you’ll be able to understand that making mistakes is what makes us human. And everyone deserves a second chance.

Location: Lake Erie Correctional Institute (Ohio)

Name: Rashod Vallandingham

Age: 59

Weeks Left: 2

I: Why are you in here?

R: “Why am I in here? Honestly, I don’t even remember anymore. I know how I ended up here. That I know. What I don’t know is why I’m here now. Yeah, I made my mistakes. But being here for so long feels like a punishment in itself. I tell myself that it’ll all be over soon, but sometimes I think whether it should’ve been over a long time ago. There’re men that’ve come and gone who’ve done far worse things than I have. I just transported the drugs. Never knew where they were going or who was using them. I didn’t want to know that. I just wanted to make some fast money. I didn’t know what else to do. I was desperate. I had a baby girl and I could barely afford to pay rent, let alone have enough to support a child. I’m a fool for believing I was going to make it out of that life without consequences.”

I: How long have you been here?

R: “Long enough to miss my daughter grow up. Long enough to see her hate me for not being there for her. I guess I should consider myself the lucky one. I only got 25. Some of the others got life. I get to see the outside world again in 2 weeks. The others will die behind these walls. It’s so strange. It feels so… unreal. I’ve spent half my life creating mistakes after mistake. And I’ve spent the other half paying for them. Now, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the last of my life. They tell me that it’s a chance for me to start over, but that’s not true. I won’t be able to see my little girl grow up anymore. I won’t be able to tell my dad I loved him once last time before he died. Hell, I don’t think I’ll be able to get honey the same way I used to. I’m an old man now. I know I am. Really, sometimes I consider whether it’s worth it to be free anymore. I wasted 25 years of my fucking life for something that I only did for 2 years, at most.”

I: What are you going to do when you get out?

R: “You know, it’s funny. For the last few months, everyone has been asking me that exact same question. Some of my homeboys tell me that they can get me some girls who are into ex-cons. You know, ‘get my dick wet.’ I told them I’ll consider their offer. Maybe a few months of adjusting myself properly. But really, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. As the years went on, I considered what I would do. It used to be, get a job and start doing the right thing with my daughter. But as I saw photos of her growing up and hearing how she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I began to think of something else. I thought about maybe going back to school and getting a degree in nursing. I always wanted to do that. I met this old cat a long time ago, when I first got here. This mofo was 67 years old. He still had 2 years left in his sentence. But he was determined to go back to school when all this was over. Everybody told him it was a dead dream, but he was persistent. I don’t know what happened to him after he left, but I liked to believe that he did what he said he would. But I don’t know about myself. The only thing that I want to do is make things right with my girl. I know I wasn’t there. And she has every right for her not to want me in her life. But I want to make things right. I fucked over a shit ton of people in my life. Even my baby mama. But my girl is the one person that deserves an apology. Maybe one day I will. 25 years felt so long, yet here I am at the end of it. I’m sure I can handle a couple more years to make things right again. But for now, I’m probably gonna grab myself a big fat juicy steak and a gallon of beer. God, I miss alcohol.”

I: Do you think you deserve to be in here?

R: “If you’d asked me that when I first got here, I would’ve told you yes. If you’d asked me that 15 years ago, I would’ve said no. And if you’d asked me that 5 years ago, I would’ve said yes again. But now I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t believe that I deserve to be in here, because I do. All those drugs that I saw, they must’ve affected some people. I think about that sometimes. I think about whether I killed anybody with what I carried. Sure, I didn’t make them, but I was still part of the problem. Maybe that’s why I got 25 years. One for every person I killed. I don’t know. I want to say that I grew as a person all this time being here, but the truth is that I feel like I just wasted half my life. If I didn’t get caught, I probably would’ve stopped doing that within a year. I just needed enough money for my girl. That’s all. But instead I paid for it with my life. Do I think I deserve to be here? Yes. I do. But my daughter didn’t deserve to grow up without a father. My daughter didn’t deserve to be passed around from family to family all her life. She didn’t deserve to suffer for the mistakes that I did. She didn’t deserve any of that. But that’s something that I have to live with now. In 2 weeks I’ll be a free man again, but I don’t even know if I deserve that either.”

Location: Trousdale Turner Correctional Facility (Tennessee)

Name: Alvin Gaby

Age: 35

Weeks Left: 7

I: Why are you in here?

A: “Caused I killed the nigger who was fucking my wife. Well, ex-wife now. Don’t even feel bad about it. Motherfucker deserved it. I busted my ass all day and night just so my bitch of an ex-wife could be getting fucked every day. Probably wasn’t even the only one. Motherfuckers are lucky I didn’t go and kill every single one of them. I knew it was a bad idea moving into that neighborhood. The minute I saw them buy the house next door; I knew shit was going to get worse. That’s what they do anyways. Once one comes in, the rest follow. They’re like flies on shit. I should’ve known she was up to no good. I knew something was up when they started getting a bit too chatty. She wanted me to be nice to them, but why should I? They’re all the same anyways. They just bring drugs, violence, and gangs wherever they go. And apparently fuck wives and girlfriends of hard-working Americans. Like I said, they’re lucky I just got one of them. If I could, I’d get rid of them all.”

I: How long have you been here?

A: “Shit, I’ve been here for 10 years man. 10 fucking years. It feels like it’s been a long fucking time. I got off lucky too, I suppose. Since I killed the fucker in my home, the judge ruled it as me defending my property. But since he wasn’t really committing a crime, I still got 10 years for homicide. I should’ve got less. I didn’t do nothing wrong. I saw a stranger in my house, and I used my god damn American rights. If defending my house is a crime now, then I don’t even know what America is anymore. I’m just lucky I get to have my freedom again soon.”

I: What are you going to do when you get out?

A: “What am I gonna do once I get out? I’m getting the fuck out of this state, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m telling you man, it’s like everywhere you go nowadays, there’s more and more of them everywhere. I’m going somewhere far away from all this bullshit. My brother already told me he has a job set up for me with him somewhere in Montana once I get out. He says they pay under the table, but it pays well. I trust him. He’s been a good brother for all my life. He even made sure that bitch didn’t take any of my stuff. And when the cops came, he made sure to hide as many of my guns as he could. He’s a good brother. I’m lucky to have him in my life. After mom died, pop wasn’t much around. Well, not in the head anyways. The factory laid him off for a stronger, young negro. He wasn’t the same after that. There wasn’t a time when he didn’t have a bottle in his hand. So, it was me and my brother. We promised that we would take care of each other when something went wrong. And to never let anyone get in our way of success. Especially those people. If you even consider them people. More like animals if you’d asked me. But anyways, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna go a long way from here and start my life somewhere where I know I’ll be safe. Away from my bitch of an ex-wife. Away from this city. And especially away from all these people.”

I: Do you think you deserve to be in here?

A: “Fuck no! I didn’t deserve to be here the day I came in. And I don’t deserve to be here 10 fucking years later. I wasted an entire decade in this hellhole with all those people. And for what? For using my rights? I did what any right minded American would do in my situation in order to protect their home. It’s bullshit. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t take back those years anyways. I’m just thankful that it’ll finally be over. I get to start my new life somewhere far away and I won’t have to deal with any more of this shit. The government fucked me over on this one, but I still believe in the American Dream. And trust me, this won’t happen again. I dare those motherfuckers to get close to me again. I still have my rights. I’m not afraid to use them.”

Location: Rivers Correctional Institute (North Carolina)

Name: DaMarcus Roland

Age: 37

Weeks Left: 3

I: Why are you in here?

D: “Because I fucked up. Because I thought joining their gang would make them stop. I’m so stupid. I know I was better than that. But niggas kept talking shit about me. They didn’t give me much choice to join their gang either. They were fucking with my family, trying to make me join. Telling me they were gonna rape my sister and fuck her dead body. Shit wasn’t right. I didn’t have much choice but to join them. And now I wasted 20 years of my life here. I got caught during my initiation. I was with a group of them in a car. We were supposed to do a drive-by. I needed to kill at least one motherfucker. But shit went wrong. I don’t remember much about that night. I just remember running from the cops. They eventually caught me, charging me on possession of illegal weapons. And you know what was the most fucked up thing about all that? The judge trialed me as an adult, man. I was only fucking 17 years old bro. A junior in high school. I didn’t get to graduate. I didn’t get to walk the stage with the rest of my friends. And I’ve been in here long enough to miss my little sister and brother’s graduation. I missed out on a lot of things bro. My pop died about 5 years ago and I didn’t even hear about it until 3 weeks later. It broke my heart. The only thing I could do is imagine how my ma must’ve felt. Now she’s all alone, with two kids in college and one in the hole. I was supposed to be the big brother to them. Now, I’m nothing.”

I: How long have you been here?

D: “Long enough to see everyone I care about abandon me. The first five years being here weren’t so bad. Everyone knew I was child. Within the first few weeks, I had a group who made sure to take care of me. They were older than the others. Probably been here all their life. They never asked me what I did or how much time I got. They just made sure that I was safe. In a way, they ended up being like a second family to me. Which, when I would lay in bed at night, made me feel like shit. My real family was still out there, trying to figure out how to live without me. Then I think about the friends I had in high school. I’m sure they don’t think about me anymore. But I think about them every day. I like to think that they’ve gotten their shit together already. Maybe already have families and babies and all that other shit. Then there’s my girl, Sandra. We weren’t together, but I had the biggest fucking crush on her. We basically grew up together. We would stick together through everything. I should’ve listened to her… (DaMarcus paused for almost 2 minutes, staring at the ground while rubbing his finger) She…, she actually came to see me. About 10 years ago. It had been a while since anybody stopped by, so that caught me by surprise. She told me she was getting married. She was pregnant too. I think that broke my heart more than when I heard about dad. I spent years thinking about her. I thought about finally asking her out the day I got out. For years, there were so many things that I thought me and her could do. But when I saw her that day, I knew that it was too late for any of that. Even my dreams were only going to remain as dreams. That’s how long it’s been.”

I: What are you going to do when you get out?

D: “I’m going to visit my ma. Maybe just live with her. I know it’s weird for a grown man to go back and live with his mom, but she’s an old lady now. From what I hear anyways. My brothers took it upon themselves to send her to a nursing home. When I heard that, it pissed me off. I don’t know how she raised them after I left, but I know that she doesn’t deserve to spend the rest of her days surrounded by death. I want to take care of her. I wasn’t the greatest son to her but she’s still my ma. I wasn’t there for her when dad died, but I want to be there for her now. I don’t know how long she has left but whatever time she has, I’m going to make sure to be there. There’s a lot of things I ain’t never going to get back, but I would never forgive myself if I’m not there when she goes. Since my brothers don’t talk to me no more, I’m not even gonna bother with them. They’ve already got their own lives. It’s not like me coming back will change anything. It’s just going to be me and my ma. Maybe get a job somewhere close. Any job. And maybe try and get a GED or something. We had a program here that was helping some of us out to get one, so we’d be ready by the time we got out, but they got rid of it. Said they weren’t ‘seeing much progress’. I know that’s bullshit but it’s not like we can do something about it. But yeah, that’s probably what I’ll do. Just me and ma.”

I: Do you think you deserve to be in here?

D: “I’m thankful that I had people who protected me when I first got here. Because I wasn’t ready to live with a group of men who have done all kinds of shit. I remember there would be nights where I would cry myself to sleep. I was afraid someone would come and do something to me. I don’t know what. All that stuff you see on TV about prisons, just made me feel like the minute I dropped the soap, it was all going to be over. But it wasn’t so bad. But I did believe that I deserved to be there when I first got here. Felt like it was where I deserved to be. Like karma or some shit like that, you know? Like, this is what I deserve for all that bad shit that I did. For ruining the family name. For not learning how to walk away from shit. For being rude to my brother and sister. And especially for being such a bad son and disappointing my ma. All those things are why I know that I deserved to be in here for so long. As every year went by, it made sense why I was here. I feel like I grew to be a better person here than if I was still out there. If I was still out there, I’d probably be dead. Maybe gotten killed walking home or some shit. I know that I needed to be here. I’m still upset about a lot of things, but I think that everything does happen for a reason. And in a few weeks, I’ll be out. It’s too late for me to do a lot of things anymore, but I get to be free once more. I get to start all over. This time, I’ll make sure to do the right thing.”

Location: Wheeler Correctional Facility (Georgia)

Name: Lucas McArthur

Age: 28

Weeks Left: 12

I: Why are you in here?

L: “Shit, man, I wish I could tell you. I didn’t do anything wrong, yet somehow, I still ended up here. You know, I believe that karma is real. I really do. That’s why I’m not so bothered by being in this situation as much. Because I know that bitch who put me in here is going to get what she deserves. Just watch. One of these days she’s going to get everything that she deserves. Serves her right. Accusing me of rape. I mean, come on. Look at me. Do I look like a man who is capable of raping someone, let alone someone who I was with for 2 years? Nah, man. I didn’t do that. I know I didn’t. It was bullshit. All of it. The whole situation just blew up out of proportion and before I knew it, I was already labeled a rapist. Couldn’t even defend myself. All my friends turned their backs on me, and nobody wanted to believe my story. The only person that was and still is by my side is my brother. He knows I didn’t do that. He knows I would never do that. My mama raised us right. I would never; you hear me. I would NEVER lay my hand on a woman if she didn’t want me to. And my friends knew that. But that woman is a lying, manipulative bitch. She knows how to change people’s mind. She knows how to make herself look like the victim. Not hard for her anyways. She’s got that face that looks so cute. Like a puppy waiting for a treat. But you know, I’m not bothered by it anymore. I learned my lesson. And once I get out of here, I’m going to make sure to never trust a bitch again.”

I: How long have you been here?

L: “Just five years. The judge felt that that was an appropriate amount of time for me to be here. It was almost as if he knew I was innocent as well but felt that he still had to give me some time, or else he looked biased or something. I don’t know. I’m just lucky it wasn’t more. It was almost close to being more. During the trial, that bitch kept screaming and crying, trying to use her tears to convince the jury that I was a psycho or something. Didn’t even help. I remember their faces. They could tell she was just playing a show for them too. But like I said, I didn’t have enough evidence or people on my side to prove that I was innocent. She even had ‘bruises’ that I gave her. Crazy bitch. She did those to herself. I wanted to bring a doctor or someone to check them out to prove that she did them to herself. But she was able to win that fight too. 5 years man. 5 fucking years. Like I said, it’s not so bad. A lot of these guys in here have way more fucking years on their sentence. But they’ve killed people and done other shit. I didn’t do nothing. It’s not so bad though. Everyone here agrees that I’m not supposed to be here. At least I have them; all things considered.”

I: What are you going to do when you get out?

L: “Probably move out of town or something. I asked my brother to try and sell all my stuff. So, I have some money from that. Plus, I already had some money saved up from before. My brother made sure to take it out the bank before the situation got worse. I’ll use that money to get a bus ticket and be able to pay the first few months of rent in an apartment while I find a job. Not sure where I’ll go though. Maybe Memphis. I hear its kind of quiet over there. Maybe a new scenery will do me good. I don’t know. We’ll see. All I know is that I don’t intend to stay here any longer anymore. I know there’s gonna be bitches everywhere, but at least I’ll be away from her.”

I: Do you think you deserve to be in here?

L: “Do I think I deserve to be here? No! What kind of fucking question is that? I just told you I’m not supposed to be here. Of course, I don’t deserve to be in here. I didn’t deserve to be labeled a rapist. I didn’t deserve to have my friends turn their backs on me. And I especially didn’t deserve to have 5 years of my fucking life wasted in this fucking place that doesn’t even give a shit about us. I didn’t deserve any of this. But trust me when I say that everyone that fucked me over will get what they deserve soon. I still have time to fix my life back to the way it was. And part of me feels grateful for that. But the other part of me feels that I shouldn’t even have to be in this mess to begin with. But there’s no point in being mad about it anymore. 5 years have already come and gone. I’m going to be free soon. I’m going to have my life back and I intend to use it. No more friends. No more getting close to anybody. And no more falling in love. Cause look where that shit can get you; right fucking here. I’m getting what most people don’t get. I’m getting a second chance. And to me, that’s a blessing. And this time, I’m gonna make sure that I don’t let anybody in. Because I’m not coming back here. I’ll make sure of it.”

Location: Gadsden Correctional Facility (Florida)

Name: Wanda Powell

Age: 67

Weeks Left: 4

I: Why are you in here?

W: “You know, I never saw myself as a criminal. I never saw what I was doing as something bad. All I was doing was being the caretaker to dozens of women who needed my help. Women who needed protection from the entire world. I knew how vulnerable they were and how easily things could go wrong because I used to be in that situation at a young age. I didn’t have much of a choice. We were dirt poor, only being able to eat every other day. My mom became desperate for money. So, she did what any right-minded mother would do in her situation; she sold me to some filthy old men who craved the touch of a young girl. It didn’t take long for me to end up in a rabbit hole. By the time I was 18, I already had about 200 ‘customers.’ I became numb to everything. It came to the point where I would just lay there, staring at the wall as they did what they paid for. But all that change when I was about 20. I was with a customer, doing what I normally did. As I began undressing, I could see him starting to put on gloves. Long story short, I managed to get away, with a few cuts here and there. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I stayed but I told myself that I was never going to do that ever again. But by that time, I had a bunch of friends who were in the same situation. And I worried that one day, something would happen to them the same way it happened to me. Only they wouldn’t make it out. That’s when I decided to be a caretaker for these women. Shortly after that, I became known as Mama Power. I took care of my girls. I made sure that they were never alone. By the time I was 25, I was taking care of at least 40 women. Most of them left their pimps to come be with me. I had a few run-ins with them but since I had more power, they just left. And that’s how it was for a good while. I made sure that my women were well protected, that they were getting paid what they deserved, and that they didn’t feel in danger anymore. But all that changed one day. One of my girls, Amber, was a favorite of the men. She was a sweet girl. Playful and goofy. I guess that’s why everybody loved her. Well, one day, a new customer asked for her, offering me great money for her. He was this rich, white man. Nothing about him seemed suspicious. He just looked like someone who was interested in a little fun. So, I set up the appointment. For safe measure, I sent her with another girl in case anything went wrong. He had paid for 2 hours. So, I waited. Every time they finished, my girls would call me, telling me they’re done. But after 2 hours, I didn’t hear anything. That’s when I went to check up on them. As I walked down the hall, I saw the hotel room door open. And when I walked in, I saw both their bodies, lying on the floor. They were dead. (Wanda began to cry. We took a few minutes for her to calm down. I asked if she wanted to end the interview but insisted she wanted to continue.) I felt like I let my girls down. I was supposed to take care of them. And the cops didn’t do much about it either. I practically begged them to do an investigation, but they refused. They don’t see us people. They just saw us as pieces of meat that they can use whenever they wanted. So, that’s when I took matters into my own hands. With the help of a couple people I knew, I got my hands on some weapons. I was determined to kill these sons-of-bitches. They messed with Mama Power and I wasn’t about to just let them get away with it. After a few weeks, I eventually found them. And within the hour, I got them all. All by myself. It was 3 of them. Didn’t even think twice about doing it. Just shot them dead. I knew that wasn’t going to bring my girls back, but I wanted justice for their deaths. And I got it. But about a week later, they caught me too. I was arrested on chargers of murder and prostitution; something that they’ve been ok with until I killed one of their people. They wanted to give me a life sentence for the murder of all 3. But the jury was on my side. The people were on my side. Everyone was on my side. But at the end of the day, I still murdered 3 people. And that’s something I can’t get away with. Not me anyways. But those people are dead. And even though there’s many other filthy fucking pigs like them out there, I’m proud that I was able to get justice for my girls. I know that’s what they would’ve wanted.”

I: How long have you been here?

W: “40 years. I actually received 45, but they cut 5 off for good behavior. I suppose that counts for something. But it’s been a tough life. I know I have still a good amount of time left, but all my good years have been wasted already. There’s no denying that. I’m an old woman now. I still feel young at heart, but my body tells a different story. I was 27 years old when I got in here. I remember those early days. I would try to act like the biggest bitch out there. I even had my fair share of fights with the other gangs. I don’t even know why I did it. I just wanted to prove to them that I’m not someone you fucked with. Not that anybody did intentionally. A lot of them respected me. Telling me how proud they were that I actually killed those guys. Most of them wished they could do that to the men in their lives. Just goes to show you how shitty men are. Doesn’t matter what race they are. As long as they have a penis, they’re evil. But that’s the old me talking. I’ve made peace with my past already. I accepted the years being here. They’ve actually been good to me, aside from the aging. After the 20th year, I pretty much did my own thing around here. Yeah, every now and again we would have to get cavity searched, but there’s ups and downs to everything. I’m still Mama Power. That name hasn’t gone away, and I plan to keep it that way. I may be locked inside, but I still take care of my girls. Not the ones on the outside though. It’s been years since I talked to them. They were all there during my trial, trying to fight for justice with me. They would come visit as much as they could. It was nice to see their faces. But after the 10th year, they stopped coming. I don’t blame them. You don’t want to stick around with someone from a past you wish to erase. So, now it’s just me and the girls in here. I take care of them and they take care of me. Most people would be upset if they wasted half their life in this place, but not me. I mean, sure it sucked the first few years, but part me felt that one way or another, I was always going to end up in here. It’s just the life I was meant to have. And I’m ok with it. And in a few weeks, I’ll get to enjoy the remaining of my life on the outside. It feels a bit bittersweet.”

I: What are you going to do when you get out?

W: “You know, I’ve thought about that question for so long, that it doesn’t feel like a question anymore. It just feels like something you hear all the time that you just block it out. But the truth is that I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t have anyone on the outside anymore. I have no idea where the girls I took care of are anymore. And I never really had many friends to begin with. My bitch of a mother died about 15 years ago, thank god. And since I have no siblings or have no idea who my dad is, there’s really no one I can go to. And part of me feels that it might just be easier to stay here. But I know I shouldn’t. Even at my age, I know I can still do a lot of things. Like I said, I’m an old lady now, but I’m still young at heart. Honestly, I might just go out and find myself a man to have some fun with. I know what I said, and I still stand by it. But its been so long since I’ve had sex, that it wouldn’t hurt to do it again. That’s the problem isn’t it? If only us women can have the penis but not the men. (Wanda starts laughing, apologizing for her words. I laugh alongside her.) Anyways, I’m talking out of my ass again. What was your question? Oh, right. What I’ll do after I get out. Ummm, I don’t know. I really don’t know. I didn’t have a plan back then, and I especially don’t have one now. A couple of girls have offered me a place to stay with their families for the time being. Just until I can get a job or something. I really don’t want to come into someone’s life and bother them until I get my life together. And I don’t even know how long that’ll take. I don’t know. I’m just scared of leaving. I’m happy that I am, but I’m scared about what happens next. I’ve always been scared of new beginnings. And this one feels like the worst one. Especially since I don’t have anybody anymore.”

I: Do you think you deserve to be in here?

W: “In the 40 years that I’ve been here, I’ve seen many girls come and go. Some come in for stupid things, like stealing or trying to sell weed to teenagers. But every now and again, a new girl would arrive, claiming she didn’t deserve to be there. And they usually have the same reasons for saying that. They would say that they would get raped, abused, or beaten on a daily by their boyfriends, husbands, etc. Then one day, they snapped, unable to take it anymore. So, they did what they had to do, just like me. And every single of them got the same treatment I did. The court wasn’t on their side. The government wasn’t on their side. Because all they see is what she did but turn the other cheek to what the men do. And it’s been like since I’ve been here. There is no justice for us. We take a hit, day after day, punch after punch. We report the abuse to the police, but they don’t do anything. We do everything we can before we decide to take matters into our own hands. And that’s when they finally pay attention. There is no justice for us. There is no justice for women at all. I didn’t deserve to be here and neither did all those women. But they don’t care about us. They’ve never cared. (Wanda pauses for a minute, remaining silent while staring at the ground. She takes a few long breaths before continuing.) A long time ago, a girl came in. Somewhere in her mid-20s. January was her name. From the beginning, she isolated herself, refusing to make friends with anybody. I found out that she had killed her fiancée after being abused by him repeatedly. I remember I didn’t want her to feel guilty for what she did. So, after a few weeks of being nice to her, she eventually let me in. That’s when I found out that the abuse was worse than what was being spread. She had been with him for 5 years. And every now and again, he would hit her, getting worse by the year. He had asked her to marry him, but she didn’t want to. But she was too afraid to say no. She felt like a hostage. Then, one day she found out she was pregnant. She told him the news and he didn’t take it well. He wasn’t ready to be a father. So, he beat her, punching and kicking her stomach. All that trauma made her lose the baby. And that was the turning point for her. She poisoned him. She told me that, during her case, they asked her why she couldn’t just walk away. They made him look like the victim. And because almost the entire jury was male, they found her guilty. She told me she didn’t deserve to be there, and I told her the same. We found comfort in each other after that. We became good friends. But…, but that didn’t last long. One day, she was found dead in her bed. She had made a shiv out of some parts she found and slit her wrists one night. (Wanda pauses again, holding back her tears. We stop the interview for a bit.) She didn’t deserve to die so young. She didn’t deserve to be abused like that. She didn’t deserve to be punished for something she needed to do in order to protect herself. She didn’t deserve any of that. And neither did I. But the reason why I didn’t fight to get out was because of girls like her. Because as long as men are running this system, there will never be proper justice for us. And if I can help these girls out, any possible way, then I feel like I’m at least trying to make things better. And the way I see it, coming in here isn’t the end of your life, but a chance to get away from all the bad and start again. These girls deserve redemption from all the bad that they’ve gone through. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to help them. You know, now that I think about it, I guess that’s always been my calling. Helping people. I’m Mama Power for Christ sake. My story here is going to end soon, but I’m never going to stop fighting for my girls. This isn’t over. Just you wait. You’ll hear from me soon. I promise you. And this time, it’ll be for the right reason.”

I considered editing the interviews for safe measure. I considered getting rid of the interview I had with Alvin Gaby. I even considered whether I should blur out the explicit words that were said. But what kind of journalist would I be if I altered the truth a little?

At the end of each interview, I had a short conversation with each inmate. Well, person. We talked a little bit more about their personal lives, such as favorite food, movies, music, etc... Stuff that didn’t need to be on script. And though it was a short conversation given my time limit, I got to know them in such a peculiar way. It was almost as if, just for a moment, they had forgotten where they were and were merely talking to an old friend.

Leaving each prison, I was overcome with emotions as I walked back to my car, knowing that there’re probably hundreds, if not thousands, of men and women locked behind those walls for something they needed to do. If not for protection, but for survival.

The problem is that these corporate men need to make money any way possible. So, they work with the government. You know, the one that’s supposed to give us rights and freedom and whatever. And in turn, they arrest and throw anybody who commits a crime, whether or not that crime was justified. Because, in the eyes of the law, there is no justice for murdering two men who raped and killed two prostitutes. There is no justice for putting a black man in prison while giving a white man probation for the same crimes. And there’s certainly no justice for taking away hundreds of years off these people’s lives simply for a mistake that they’ve longed paid their dues for.

But, as I stated, what these men are doing isn’t what this article is about. Those men don’t deserve any more publicity than the one they’ve already been given. That was just a small outburst that I had to get off my chest. Well, fingers if we’re being technical.

I saw these people the same way you meet someone new: with an open mind. I saw them for what they were and how they were. And that’s something that so little of us get to say.

In a few weeks, these 5 people will get their freedom once more. And what they do with it, is entirely up to them. I’m hopeful that they will do what they’ve said and get to live their life a second time around. In the words of the Great Mama Power, “This isn’t over. Just you wait.”

This will be my final article, for now. It feels a bit bittersweet, but I feel as if it is the necessary thing to do, for my own personal health. I’m hopeful that you, the reader, will take everything that’s been written into consideration and start making a change. As one person, I can only do so much. But as a group, well, there’s certainly a possibility for a change. Hell, even a revolution, if I may say so myself. All it takes is for someone to make that first step. Maybe it’ll be you.

The last thing I’ll say is this: We all deserve a chance to start over. We’re not all saints. I know I’ve had my share of flaws and vices. But just as I’m allowed to start over, so should they. Redemption is something that many of us deserve, no matter what the situation might be. Yes, some of them are true criminals, but most of them just got unlucky. They’re still human. And we shouldn’t dehumanize them for that.

Every one of us deserves a chance at redemption.

1500

Glam Doll Donuts, Minneapolis, Minnesota

February 2/Friday/8:37 A.M.

I’ve been working on this portfolio since 6 last night. I’m so exhausted. Not sure how long until I finish it. I know the deadline is tonight and I’m so close to finishing, but the fact that it’s still not done is stressing me out. I figured getting a coffee and strawberry donut would help. All it’s doing is making me extra nervous with a hint of jitteriness.

The store is beginning to fill up now. The noise is getting to my head. Why is everyone so goddamn loud? I don’t think I can work like this. But I don’t really have anywhere else to go. If only I had Wi-Fi at home. I’m going to try and block it all out.

Putting my headphones on, I play some Debussy. Clair De Lune: a song I’ve heard thousands of times, yet new every time. As I finish editing the last of my pieces, I receive a text message from him.

“The weather is about 53 right now, with a hint of rain. It’s chilly but everyone is acting like it’s a fucking blizzard. How’s the portfolio going? I’m sure you’re almost done. Please, just don’t stress yourself out. You know you have time. I love you.”

That puts a smile on my face. I hate that he knows me too well. I’ll text him in a few.

I finally finish the last of the editing. The only thing remaining is to upload. Hopefully it doesn’t take too long. As I wait, I take another sip of my coffee. Looking around, I notice how full the store has gotten. Pondering whether to move and give up the four-person table to the group of friends who are in line, aggressively looking my way. There is a table in the corner with the one chair, but it’s stationed next to the restroom and definitely not in the mood to hear noises I don’t like to hear coming out of my own body.

No. I’ll stay here. Besides, the file is close to 50% uploaded. I’m sure if they’re desperate, they’ll come join this downhearted looking girl, who willingly chose to not wear any makeup or fix her hair, now looking like Johnny Depp in Dark Shadows.

Picking up my phone, I text him, “23 up here. No wind, but, you know, the cold. Finished with the portfolio. Just patiently waiting for it to upload. Still alive. :)”

77% uploaded now. As I take another sip of my coffee, I receive another message. “It’s almost 9 over there. You didn’t get any sleep last night, did you? Also, you didn’t say I love you back.”

Ugh. I hate it when he does that. He knows that I still do. I’ve told him countless of times that it’s not necessary for me to say it back to validate what I feel. Whatever. I’m not going to let it get to my head right now. I don’t want to fight with him today. I shouldn’t. He’s been giving me moral support this whole time. I know he just wants the best for me.

“I’m sorry. You know I love you. I’m just waiting for this stupid file to finish uploading. It’s at 93% right now. I’m extremely tired. But at least I’m finished. For now…”

Almost immediately I get a reply. “Don’t apologize. It’s just been one of those mornings. Are you going to get some rest once you’re done?”

“Maybe. Hannah asked me to go to the mall with her today to find a gift for Juanita for her party tomorrow.” I don’t hear from him for a couple of minutes. I know he’s upset by that. This is frustrating me. I don’t need this right now. I don’t want to fight with him. Not over something silly as me getting some rest. I just finished a 4-month long portfolio and I deserve to hang out with my friends, without him telling me what’s good for me.

“Just…please get some rest when you can. You know what happened last time. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Especially since I’m not there.” Last time? What was last time? Oh right. When I passed out. I knew I shouldn’t have told him about that. Neither should I have told him about Peter. I know he’s jealous of him.

“I will”, I reply. “I promise if we finish early, I’ll go home and get some shut-eye before work. :)”

“Ok. I’m sorry. I care about you.” Ugh. How many fucking times do I have to see that same message again? I’m not going to escalate this argument any further. The file has completely uploaded. I just want to get out of here already.

“Don’t apologize. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for you, remember?” I must remind myself why we’re together. Not that I don’t. It’s just hard to do sometimes.

“Yeah I know”, he replies. “Listen, I have to work on my homework a little bit, then I gotta go to my next class. But I’ll text you when I get out. Just have fun with Hannah. You deserve it.”

“I’ll get some rest if I can. I promise.”

“Ok. I love you.” I want to mess with him a bit for making me feel shitty when I didn’t say it the first time.

“Yeah, I know”, I reply, waiting a minute before continuing. “LOL. I’m kidding. I love you too. Stay dry.”

Closing my laptop, I wrap the remaining of the donut for later. As I head to the exit, I see the brady bunch standing in the corner, awkwardly sipping their drinks. One of them scoffs at me as I head out.

University of Florida-Music Building, Gainesville, Florida

February 2/Friday/9:37 A.M.

            It’s a good thing that I paid attention to the news this morning. It said it would be a slight drizzle all day, but I’m not the dumbass running from building to building, trying not to get completely soaked. I wouldn’t even say that it’s that severe. Though it is heavy enough for it to require an umbrella, which I acquired a few minutes before exiting my room this morning.

            The teacher called class half an hour early today. I’m guessing he also forgot an umbrella and doesn’t want to risk looking like an imbecile in front of the kids that “look up” to him. Now with 30 minutes extra, I figured it would be the best time to go get some breakfast. I know I promised her I would start to eat before I left the house, but I’m sure she’ll understand. If it comes up.

            Seeing the line at the cafeteria, I decide to sit down and wait it out a few. I’m in no hurry and it’s not like the food changes taste.

            Looking at my phone, I figure I might text her. I’m sure she’s awake. She told me she was going to stay up for a good while last night, trying to finish her portfolio. I begged her to get some rest. She just said she would try. She can be stubborn sometimes. Her deadline is at midnight tonight, but knowing her, I’m sure she’ll want it done by noon. I’ll just send her something cute.

            “The weather is about 53 right now, with a hint of rain. It’s chilly but everyone is acting like it’s a fucking blizzard. How’s the portfolio going? I’m sure you’re almost done. Please, just don’t stress yourself out. You know you have time. I love you.”

            Hopefully that gives her the little boost that she needs. I know how hard she’s been working on it.

            The line disappears and so I go get my bland milk and eggs that I willingly pay for. Roaming around the cafeteria, I find an empty seat, with a 20-foot radius from everyone. I don’t mind company, but this is an intimate moment for me. People shouldn’t see how I eat eggs.

            I receive a text back from her. “23 up here. No wind, but, you know, the cold. Finished with the portfolio. Just patiently waiting for it to upload. Still alive. :)”

            It’s not even 10 yet. Well, 9 for her. It’s been 6 months now and I keep forgetting about the time difference. Regardless, it’s way too early for her to be awake. I knew she would do this. I don’t mind how hard working she is, but it would be nice for her to get some decent rest from time to time. I’m sure that she’ll take a nap once she’s finished. She has the rest of the day to enjoy now anyways.

“It’s almost 9 over there. You didn’t get any sleep last night, didn’t you? Also, you didn’t say I love you back.” I know she’s going to say something about me telling her about the ‘I love you’. I know she is. But being so far apart makes understanding the mood of a message all the more challenging to interpret.

A few minutes go by and I still don’t hear from her. My mind begins to wander, as it always does, sitting there, eating away the eggs that would taste better if they took some time to add some spices. A few of my classmates walk by, nodding while giving me a face that shouts, “pity…” My next class doesn’t start until noon, so I might as well start working on my homework. Or binge watch a new show. Really, whichever one comes first.

My phone vibrates. “I’m sorry. You know I love you. I’m just waiting for this stupid file to finish uploading. It’s at 93% right now. I’m extremely tired. But at least I’m finished. For now…”

“Don’t apologize. It’s just been one of those mornings. Are you going to get some rest once you’re done?”

“Maybe. Hannah asked me to go to the mall with her today to find a gift for Juanita for her party tomorrow.”

I take a deep sigh to calm my emotions down. I know if I text her immediately, I’m going to say something wrong. She has to work later tonight and hasn’t properly rested. I just don’t want her to pass out again. Especially because I know Peter will go to her rescue. That skinny motherfucker.

“Just…please get some rest when you can. You know what happened last time. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Especially since I’m not there.” That could’ve been written better but I don’t want to shadow what I feel right now. We said we weren’t going to keep secrets from each other.

“I will”, she texts me. “I promise if we finish early, I’ll go home and get some shut-eye before work. :)”

“Ok. I’m sorry. I care about you.” I look at my phone, staring at those words, as if they’ve become imprinted for the numerous times I’ve said it.

“Don’t apologize. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for you, remember?” My heart slows down again. It’s ok. Things are ok. I know they are. I have to stop overthinking.

“Yeah I know”, I tell her. “Listen, I have to work on my homework a little bit, then I gotta go to my next class. But I’ll text you when I get out. Just have fun with Hannah. You deserve it.”

“I’ll get some rest if I can. I promise.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“Yeah, I know”, she tells me. My heart races again. But another minute later I get another message. “LOL. I’m kidding. I love you too. Stay dry.”

Staring at my phone, I look at the photo of us when we went to Pensacola Beach. I can’t concentrate on my homework right now. I pack up my belongings, throw away the trash, and decide to take a walk before my next class. Embrace the rain a little.

McDonald’s Liquor and Wine, Minneapolis, Minnesota

February 3/Saturday/5:43 P.M.

            “Which one do you think Juanita will like?”, Hannah asks.

            “I don’t know. I don’t know why you always ask me. You know I’m not much of a drinker.”, I tell her.

            “Sure. That’s why you could barely stand up at the end of the night on your birthday right?”

            “That was my 21st birthday. And you made me drink.”

            “But you had fun, didn’t you?”

            I take a deep sigh, trying not to roll my eyes in front of her.

“From what I can remember, yes, I did. But I don’t plan on drinking tonight. Maybe just a beer. I’m only going because you asked me to. Juanita is your friend.”

            “She’s your friend too, you know.” She gives me this judgmental look. I brush it off.

            “Yeah. But I don’t know her as well as you do.”

            “Whatever. Just help me find a bottle that she might like. She prefers vodka, but we could also get her some tequila. I want to get fucked up too.”

            She walks away, going to the other side of the store to look at the tequilas. I try to see if I can find any vodka bottle. Looking around, I see all the different brands. Lost Falls Vodka, Millers and Saints Vodka, Tattersall Vodka, Prairie Cucumber Vodka. Jesus. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why there’s so many. Literally, they all do the exact same thing.

            It’s almost close to 6. I haven’t heard from him all day. He went to work, but I know that he should already be out by this time. Unless they asked him to do a double again. If he doesn’t text anytime soon, I’ll probably just send him a message later, just to make sure he’s ok.

            Hannah walks back to me, holding a bottle of Don Julio tequila and some margarita mixer. “Did you find a good bottle?”, she asks.

            I look back at the shelf and randomly grab the Lost Falls Vodka. “Uh, yeah. The lady said this one tastes really good.”

            “Great! Tonight is gonna be awesome. We are going to get. Fucked. Up.” She grabs the bottle from my hand and heads to the check out. I check my phone again but still no message from him. It’s still pretty early in the afternoon. I’m sure he got caught up in something.

            Before heading back to Hannah’s house, we stop by a Burger King to get something to eat. Still haven’t received anything from him.

            Getting back to her house, I go and sit in the living room and watch some TV while I eat, as Hannah goes to her room to get ready. Knowing her, it’s going to take a while.

            6:51 right now. Still nothing. I decide to text him. “Hey. Haven’t heard from you all day. I’m sure you’ve been busy. I’m in Hannah’s house right now. Waiting on her to get ready, then heading out. But knowing her, it’s going to be a while. I hope you’re ok. I miss you right now….”

            14 minutes go by. Nothing. I take a deep sigh and face my phone down on the table, continuing to eat while I watch Family Guy.

            I hear her shower turn off. “Hey!”, she yells. “Are you still there?”

            “Still here”, I tell her.

            “Ok. Sorry about this. I promise I won’t take much more time.”

            “Don’t worry about it. It’s still kind of early. We have time.”

            She doesn’t say anything back. Instead, I hear music beginning to play. I turn the volume back up and continue watching. I see my phone light turn on.

            “Sorry I haven’t texted. It’s been a long day of work and I’m a little tired. I’m ok. Just going to play games the rest of night. Maybe order a pizza. And I miss you too.”

            I feel shitty right now. I don’t like when he stays home when I go out with my friends. I don’t know why he does that. Like he wants me to feel guilty for enjoying myself. I’m not going to let this ruin my night.

“It’s ok”, I reply.  “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it later. Just relax. I think Hannah is close to finishing and then we’re going to head out.”

“Just have fun. You deserve it after months of stressfulness. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ok. :)”

“Ok.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I see the message as it illuminates my face. It doesn’t feel right anymore. It just feels like words.

45 minutes pass by and Hannah finally walks out.

“You ready?”, she asks, like I haven’t been sitting here, dumbing my brain away by staring at a black mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be”, I respond.

“Great!”, she yells. “Tonight is going to be so much fun!”

Country Village Apartments, Gainesville, Florida

February 3/Saturday/6:43 P.M.

            “Come on! You stupid fucking cunt! You had him right there!”, I yell at the TV. This is probably the worst match I’ve ever played. These fucking people can’t carry this team for shit. Whatever. I’m going to play something different. This one is frustrating me too much right now.

            Someone starts knocking at my door. Getting up from my couch, I go check out who it is. It’s my friend Xavier. I open the door to let him in.

            “You don’t how to answer your phone or something?”, he asks.

            “I had it on silent. I didn’t really want to be bothered right now. Hint. Hint.”

            He chuckles at my response. “Right. I’m sure you were busy”, he says, looking around my mess of a living room. “Nathan is throwing a little get together tonight. We’re gonna go to Cedar Key. It’s gonna be fun. Bonfire and beer.”

            “I don’t know dude. I kind of have my own thing going on right now. Besides, it’s a little late already. Plus, Cedar Key is super far away and there’s not really a beach there.”

            He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me for a minute, with this look of disapproval or disappointment. “Come on man”, he continues. “You hardly go out with us anymore. You just spent most of your time either at school, work, or here. It’ll be fun. And you know what? Gina is going to be there.”

            I stop playing. I turn to look at him, beginning to feel pissed. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

            “Well”, he pauses. “You could finally make a move. You’ve been liking her for the longest. Maybe tonight you could do something about it.”

            I get up, starting to feel angry. Not wanting to make a scene, I continue the conversation, in hopes that it doesn’t blow out of proportion. “I don’t like her. We’ve just been friends since we were 7, that’s all. And you know I have a girlfriend, right?”

            He scoffs, sarcastically smiling. “Right. How could I forget? Wendy, right? From…. Montana?”

            “Minnesota”, I reply, with anger in my voice.

            “Right. Sorry. Well, at least just come for the sake of me and the others. It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together. And besides. Cedar Key is only like an hour away. You can ride with me.”

            I sit down again, looking at my phone. I haven’t texted her all day today. She has that birthday party tonight. Maybe I should go out. I don’t like knowing that she’s out there having fun, while I’m sitting here, playing video games all night.

            “Alright”, I say. “I’ll go, but I’m going to take my own car. If I ride with you, who knows how late you’re going to want to stay out.”

            “Cool. I’m going to buy some drinks and I’ll text you when I’m heading over there. Keep your phone on.”

            He heads and I go to take a shower. Standing there, I feel the water running down my body, getting lost in thought. I’m thinking about Gina. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I don’t know why I feel nervous.

            Picking out my outfit, I hear my phone vibrate. It’s Xavier. “Hey bro. Just letting you know that I’m heading over there in half an hour or so. You can head over already if you want though. Some people are already on their way there.”

            I throw my phone back on my bed. Looking at my shirts, thinking which one will make my muscles stand out, but not to the point where people ask why it’s too tight. A few minutes go by and I hear my phone vibrate again. It’s her.

            “Hey. Haven’t heard from you all day. I’m sure you’ve been busy. I’m in Hannah’s house right now. Waiting on her to get ready, then heading out. But knowing her, it’s going to be a while. I hope you’re ok. I miss you right now….”

            Shit. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t want to tell her about tonight. I don’t want her to ask me who’s going to be there. If she finds out about Gina, she’s going to forbid me from going. I’m just going to wait a bit. I’ll finish getting ready and I’ll text her when I head out.

            A couple minutes after 8 now. I text Xavier, letting him know that I’m going to start driving that way.

            Looking at her contact, I decide that maybe it’s best that she doesn’t know where I am tonight. I wouldn’t want her to worry about me. She has a party to go to, and I deserve to enjoy myself.

“Sorry I haven’t texted. It’s been a long day of work and I’m a little tired. I’m ok. Just going to play games the rest of night. Maybe order a pizza. And I miss you too.”

As I get in my car, I sit there for a minute, taking deep breaths. My phone vibrates again.

“It’s ok. I’m sure you’ll tell me about it later. Just relax. I think Hannah is close to finishing and then we’re going to head out”, she replies back.

“Just have fun. You deserve it after months of stressfulness. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ok. :)”

“Ok.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I put the address on the GPS and begin to drive.

Juanita’s House, St. Paul, Minnesota

February 3/Saturday/11:13 P.M.

            I don’t recognize any of these people. I may have seen one or two of them hanging out with Juanita a while back, but everyone else. I didn’t even know that so many people could fit inside this house. I guess I always perceived it as smaller than it actually looks.

            Hannah left to go get another drink for me about half an hour ago. I’m sure there’s a line. That’s why she’s taking so long. Not because I saw her talking to some guy and then heading upstairs with him. He probably took her to a secret stash of booze that he has up there. Yeah, that’s probably it. I’ll just wait here, sitting outside with my empty red Solo cup next to the bonfire. It is way too cold to be out here, but I can barely hear my own thoughts inside. Besides, there’s maybe 20 plus people out here with me, and they don’t seem to be bothered at all.

            I want to check my phone, but I haven’t felt it vibrate this whole time. Maybe he fell asleep. That’s probably it. I’ll send him a goodnight text when I get back home.

            Almost 45 minutes now and still no sign of Hannah. Man, that must be some extremely hidden booze. She sure is taking her time with this guy. I would love to just go home right now, but since I foolishly decided to ride with her, I’m pretty much motionless.

            Deciding to go refill my cup, I get cornered by Juanita.

            “Hey!” She says it in a tone that almost sounds forced. Maybe it isn’t. I could never tell, given my long history of being backstabbed by ex-friends. “I’m so glad you came. Really. And thank you for the bottles. They’re definitely making this party so much better.”

            “Well…, you know, it was Hannah’s idea.” I can already feel myself trying to exit this conversation. “Speaking of Hannah, have you seen her?”

            “No, but I’m pretty sure she’s here somewhere. You know her, probably made a friend and is introducing herself to him. Or her.”

            There was an awkward pause. I’m staring at my cup, trying to escape this landmine.

            “Well…, I better go looking for her. I’m sure she’s missing a good amount of this party.” I start walking but she grabs me by the arm. I turn to look at her, mildly confused.

            “Actually, the reason why I came over is because I wanted to introduce you to someone. I hope you don’t mind.” My mind begins to wonder. I hardly know Juanita and now she wants me to meet someone? Honestly, the only thing we have in common is that we work certain shifts together. There’s nothing else that I can think of for her to introduce me to someone. But, given that I don’t know where Hannah is, I might as well.

            As I walk with her to the living room, I’m greeted by a familiar smile. It’s Peter. I feel myself starting to sweat.

            “Ok, I may have lied about it being someone new”, Juanita says. I want to run away but I can’t. She seems to be holding on to me very tightly.

“Well, I’m going to leave you two to it. I’ll let you know if I find Hannah.” She walks away as I stand there, completely frozen, as if something has taken control of my body. We look at each other for a bit. I don’t know what to say. I’m just staring at him and it’s clear that he’s confused by my silence.

“Hey”, he finally says.

“Hey yourself”, I respond, in a quivering voice.

“Hannah told me Juanita was having a party and that I should come over. She said that you would be here.” When I see Hannah, I’m going to bitch slap the shit out of her.

“Well…, here I am.” We both awkwardly laugh, standing there for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I’m sorry. Did I catch you at a wrong time? You seem like you need to be somewhere else.” I’m staring at his lips now. The way they move with every word he says.

“No”, I tell him. “I was actually just looking for Hannah, but I think she upstairs with a new ‘friend’.”

“Ah. Well, would you like another drink? I think your cup is empty.”

I give off a small chuckle. “Uh…, yeah. That would be nice. Just something light please.”

“I can do that. I’ll be right back.”

“And I will be right here.” I give him this mid-smile. As he walks away, I catch my breath and start fixing my hair a little. I go to the mirror and make sure that everything is on properly. Going back to the living room, I sit on the couch that just happens to be empty right now. My heart has been racing this whole time.

He finally returns with two cups in his hands. He gives me one that looks like it has some kind of greenish liquor in it. I take a small sip. It’s a margarita. He made me a margarita. I watch him as he sits down next to me, adjusting himself. I can feel his warmth.

“So…how are you tonight?”, he asks. I don’t want to sound lame and tell him that I’ve just been waiting for Hannah to finish getting fucked so I could go home.

“I’m doing…good”, I say. “Yeah. I finished my portfolio and now I don’t have to worry about much. Well, for now anyways.” He moves closer.

“That’s good. You told me about that. How you were stressing out about it. But it’s good to hear that you’re done with it. Now you get to enjoy some more free time. Maybe start working more shifts.” We both chuckle. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t know where to continue from there. I can hear the music that’s coming from the kitchen. A few minutes go by before he continues to talk.

“So…how is…ummm…”

“Luna”, I respond.

“Right. Luna. Your…boyfriend?”

“Yes. My…boyfriend.”

“Right. How is he?” There was another long pause. I stopped staring at him. I’m looking down at my drink, watching the ice melt. It felt like he wanted to say something else but was waiting for me to speak.

“He’s good”, I finally say. “He’s just been going to school and working. Just like me.”

            “That’s good to hear.” His tone of voice changes a little.

            “Yeah”, I reply. “Everything…is…good.” Again, awkward silence. I want to get up and leave but I also don’t want to move. He’s very close to me and smells really good. We both turn to look at each and just smile. I pull the cup close to my face and chug half of it down. I didn’t want to drink tonight but now, nothing feels more appropriate.

            Finally, after a few minutes of silence, he speaks. “So, uhh, listen, I wanted to ask if I could get some pointers or advice on something, if you don’t mind?”

            I turn to look at him. “No. Not at all.”

            “Ok. Well…” He starts to speak but I’m not paying attention to what he’s saying. I’m just staring at him right now. His hazel eyes are hauntingly beautiful, watching them stare at me, getting myself caught in them. His hair moves around a bit as people walk past by us. Watching it move like waves on a beach. His lips keep moving with every word that’s being spoken, but all I can think about is how they taste.

            We continued the conversation for what must’ve seem like an hour. We would laugh here and there and then talk about something meaningful. It was nice. He kept offering me drinks and I was enjoying myself. I saw Hannah walk by about 15 minutes ago, but she just looked at me and gave me a wink. I’ll let her have her own fun.

It’s starting to get late. I don’t have to work until the afternoon tomorrow but I’m starting to feel tired. I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open and my head seems to be spinning. I try to get up but nearly fall to the floor, feeling his arms around my waist as he catches me.

            “Hey now!”, he says. “You ok?”

            I still feel his arms wrapped around me, trying to keep my balance but it’s clear that I have drunk way more than I intended to. He sits me back down.

            “I need to find Hannah”, I reply. “She’s my ride.”

            “Ok, well, just stay here. I’m gonna go see if I can find her. Don’t go anywhere.” He walks away. I look at him as he goes to the kitchen. Grabbing my phone, I look at the time. It’s almost close to 1 now. He still hasn’t texted me. I think he fell asleep. I don’t know if I should text him at all tonight. I don’t want him to worry about me being out so late. I’ll see. Once I get home, I’ll decide.

            A few minutes go by and he walks back.

            “So…, turns out that Hannah left about 10 minutes. Juanita told me she saw her leave with some guy.”

            Great. Just great. I am mildly drunk, and I have no ride home. It was clear that I was visibly showing signs of being upset. “You ok?”, he asks.

            “Yeah. Sort of. She…uhh…she was my ride. Now I gotta call an Uber or something.” I take out my phone and start to get on the Uber app, but he puts his hand over it. I lift my head to look at him.

            “I can take you home”, he says. “Really, I don’t mind. I’m perfectly fine. And you won’t have to pay me.” He gives off this awkward chuckle. My head still feels like it’s spinning and can’t seem to concentrate on anything right now.

            “If you don’t mind, that’d be great”, I say, with my head still facing down, doing my best not to look up because the lights are giving me a headache.

            He pulls me off the couch and slowly walks me to his car. I’m doing my best to walk as normal as I can, but I can barely carry my own weight right now. I’m holding onto his arm very tightly. As we get to his car, he opens the passenger door for me and helps me get inside. He puts the seatbelt on and closes the door. He goes to his side and we sit inside the car for a minute, with no sounds in between.

            “So…”, he begins to say. “I think it would help if I had a destination.” I chuckle a bit, still feeling my head spin. I give him my address and begins to drive.

            We don’t say anything to each other on the entire drive. He has some Dan Auerbach playing in a low volume, while I just stare out the window, looking at the leafless trees. Snow is starting to come down again. I can see it with every streetlight that we pass by.

            “Just park on the side, right there”, I tell him. He turns off the car and walks over to my side. He takes off my seatbelt and helps me out of the car. I’m feeling a little better now. My head still spins but I can at least walk normally again.

            As we get to the front door, I stare at it for a minute. I want to invite him inside, but I don’t know if I should. It’s the least I can do. Maybe offer him something to eat as a thank you.

            “Do you want to come inside?”, I ask. His face looks surprised.

            “Sure. Would be nice to get out of this cold for a bit.”

            Heading inside, I tell him to make himself comfortable. He looks around the kitchen, while I head to my room to take off some layers. Heading back out, I see him looking around my living room, staring at this one particular painting.

            “Do you want something to eat? I can make you a sandwich”, I tell him.

            “No. It’s ok. I’m good. Appreciate it though.” He keeps staring at the painting. I approach him and stand next to him.

            “Took me about a month to finish it.”

            “You did this?”, he asks, dumbfounded.

            “Yeah. I did most of the ones you see around the living room. Some were given to me as gifts. I think they fit the space quite nicely.” He looks around, noticing all the other paintings, but reverts to the one we’re staring at.

            “I like this one a lot”, he says.

            “Dessiner”, I reply.

            “What does that mean?”

            “It just means to draw in French.”

            “I like it.”

            “Thank you”, I say. “If you want, I can make a print of it and give it to you. It’s the least I can do for helping me out tonight.”

            He doesn’t say anything, continuing to stare at the painting. Walking away, I go and sit on the couch. He turns to look at me and comes over and sits as well. We sit there in complete silence for a few.

            “How are you feeling?”, he asks.

            “Better now. Thank you. Really.”

            “You’re welcome.” As he says that, he puts his hand on my thigh. I look down at it and then I look back at him. He pulls himself closer. My heart starts to accelerate. His other hand begins to brush my hair and I close my eyes. I can feel his warmth. As I open my eyes again, I look towards his lips. I can feel myself breathing harder. He pulls himself closer and his forehead is pressed against mines. And as I look to his eyes once more, he closes them and begins to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm. They taste sweet. But after a few kisses, I pull myself away.

            “What’s wrong?”, he asks.

            “I can’t do this”, I say. “I….” But he stops me before I say anything else.

            “You know you feel the same way I do”, he says. “I know you’re doing your best to stay with him, but I’m here right now and he isn’t.” He gets closer again, but I don’t push him away. He starts to kiss me again. I feel his hand going under my shirt. I hear myself starting to moan a bit as he licks my neck. Then he pulls himself away and we stare into each other’s eyes. I’m trying my best to catch my breath.

            “It’s ok”, he says. “It’s ok. I’m here.” He takes off my shirt and unhooks my bra.

Cedar Key Beach, Cedar Key, Florida

February 4/Sunday/12:13 A.M.

            Seeing the moonlight reflect on the ocean is always something beautiful to look at. I can hear my friends talking around the bonfire about the crazy nights that we’ve had here. But I’m more fixed on watching the waves crash into the rocks. It’s too cold and too dark right now to go swimming, but still nice to look at.

            I’ve been here for a couple of hours now. It’s been fun. Xavier was right. It has been a while since we’ve all hanged out together.

            There still hasn’t been a sign of her. Every time a car pulls in or passes by, my heart races, thinking it’s her. I feel foolish for feeling this type of way right now. But it really has been a while since I’ve seen her. I know she’s been doing well, on account of what she posts online. But I don’t think she’s coming. It’s already passed midnight and everyone else is already here.

            “Hey”, Xavier tells me, as he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. If she comes, she comes. For now, just have another beer. Enjoy yourself man. We’re all glad you’re here.” I let out a mid-smile and grab a Dos XX from the cooler. As I sit around the bonfire, I laugh and talk with the others about whatever they’re talking about.

            10 minutes later, a car pulls up. It’s Gina. As she walks towards us, everyone, almost in perfect synch yell out, “Gina!!” She smiles and lets out a small, “Ayy!”

            “You fuckers started this party without me?”, she says while giving everyone a hug, finally approaching me at the end.

            “Luna!”, she shouts, giving me an extremely tight hug. “I didn’t think you were going to be here. You never want to hang out with us anymore.”

            “That’s not true. I’ve just been busy with work and school.” She gives me this sarcastic look, but then a smile.

            “Well, I’m really glad you’re here. I’m sorry I took so long. I had to deal with some family matters first. You know how it is.”

            “Yeah.” I didn’t know what else I could say. My heart still beating fast as I stood there with a beer in my hand. She continues.

            “Well…, come on. Will you join me and sit beside the dying fire?”, she says, in a stereotypical theatrical voice.

            I smile. “Of course.”

            We walk back to the circle, but I go to the cooler first to get her a beer. As I sit next to her, we clank our bottles, saying ‘cheers’, and join in on the conversation, watching the flames as they rise up and burn out.

            Time passed as we sat there, talking about everything and anything, as some of our friends started to become inebriated. It was nice. It was something that I didn’t know I needed.

            After a while, Gina gets up and goes elsewhere. I’m sure she went to go get another drink or probably talk to somebody else. I take out my phone to check the time. It’s 1 now. Still haven’t gotten a message from her. I’m sure she’s having fun at the party. I jut hope Hannah doesn’t pressure her into drinking too much again.

            I feel a tap on my shoulder. As I turn to look, I see Gina, holding out her hand to me. I look puzzled.

            “Come on”, she says. “It’s a little crowded here. Let’s go to the rocks.”

            I take her hand and follow her to the shore. She walks around the big boulders to try to find a great place to sit down. As she sits, she waves for me to sit down next to her. I can hear our friends talking and yelling in the distance. But now I can hear the waves crashing clearer. We sit together for a bit, not saying a word.

            “How many times do you think we’ve been here?”, she asks. “I want to say more than 50. I think about maybe going to check out other beaches but this one just feels like a second home now. You know?” I nod to agree but I don’t say anything.

            “Do you remember when we used to come here as kids?”, she continues.

            “Of course.”, I respond. “We were both scared to get in the water in the beginning.”

            She laughs. “Yeah. You looked stupid with those floaties you always had on your arms.”

            “You had them on too, you know.”

            “Yeah…, but I looked good with them on.” We both chuckle. We stopped for a bit, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing beneath our feet. I can feel them starting to get wet, but I don’t mind.

            “You know”, she pauses and looks right at me. “I used to have a huge crush on you back then.” My heart slowly starting to race. I turn to look at the ocean, but she moves herself closer to me.

            “Oh yeah?”, I respond. “What happened?”

            “Well, it never really went away.”

            I pause for a moment, taking in what she just said.

            “You never told me that.” I look back at her, seeing the wind blowing through her hair. She looks away and puts her head down between her legs.

            “Do you remember the time we came here after graduation?”, she asks; her voice a little muffled.

            “Of course. How could I forget that night? We almost all went to jail.” She lifts her head up again and we both laugh at the memory. She pauses for a moment and puts her hand on my lap.

            “I wanted to kiss you that night”, she continues.

            “Why didn’t you?”

            “It didn’t seem like you wanted to. I think we were sitting in these exact same rocks and we were talking about what we were going to do now that we finished high school. And I remember I got close to you, the same way I’m doing now. And I put my head on your shoulder. And you didn’t move me away. But then I looked at you, and I saw your eyes. And they were looking at me. And I saw your lips move, as if they wanted to touch mines. And I just wanted to taste them. But I never did.”

            A few minutes passed by and neither of us said a word. She took her hand of my lap and sat crossed legged next to me. We could hear our friends starting to get louder.

            “I did want to kiss you that night.” I put my head down, looking at the water going through the rocks as the waves hit.

            “Why didn’t you?”, she asks. I lift my head up again and look her right in her brown eyes.

            “Because I was afraid I would ruin the friendship I had with you.” I grab her hands. They feel warm. “You know me better than anyone else, and I scared that if we kissed, it would ruin whatever we had.” I tried to let go of her, but she held on tighter.

            “Hey”, she says. “Nothing would’ve ruined our friendship. And nothing is going to ever ruin it. We know each other too well. I’m not letting you go. You’re stuck with me.” She smiles and let’s go of my hands. We turn back and face the ocean again. She leans her head on my shoulder, like before. A few minutes go by before she says anything.

            “So?”, she asks.

            “So what?”, I respond.

            “How do they taste?” She moves her head from my shoulder and looks directly at my lips. I stare at her eyes, but slowly move down to see hers. She grabs the back of my head and pulls me in closer. She begins to close her eyes. I take a deep breath and close mines as well. She starts to breath heavier, hearing little moans. After a few minutes, I pull away from her.

            “Well?”, I ask. “How do they taste?”

            She smiles and looks at me. “Just like I always imagined they would.” She pulls me in again and we start kissing each other more. She’s moaning as I move my hands all over her back. She grabs one of my hands and moves it to the front, feeling her left boob. I feel her hands sliding down, slowly unbuckling my belt. But I pull back, getting up.

            “What’s wrong?”, she asks, looking confused, as if she’s done something wrong.

            “I can’t”, I tell her, pacing around, thinking about what just happened. She gets up as well and stands in front of me.

            “Why not?” She looks frustrated.

            “You know why. Wendy.”

            She takes a big sigh and starts pacing around as well. She moves her hands through her hair, thinking about what she’s going to say. She stops moving and turns to look at me again.

            “Why are you still with her Luna?” Her tone of voice changed. She sounds mellow now.

            “I don’t know. I...don’t know. Maybe because I’m hopeful that all this struggling and effort will work out in the end.” My hands begin to shake.

            “But how do you know that she feels the same way?”, she asks. “How do you know that she’s not over there, doing god knows what with someone else? Or that she’s not planning on breaking up with you? How do you know?”

I don’t say anything. Keeping my head down, I start to feel tears coming down my cheeks. I can’t seem to move. She approaches me and lifts my head up. She’s looking at me crying now.

“Do you love her?”, she asks.

“Yes”, I mumble underneath my breath.

“But…, are you in love with her?” My heart beating so fast, it feels like it’s going to come out of my shirt. I just want to go home. But she gets closer to me and gives me a hug. Feeling her arms wrapped up around me, I start to calm down. I move my arms slowly to hug her back. We stand there together for a bit, still hearing the waves crashing.

“Luna”, she whispers in my ear. “You know what you feel. You know what you have to do. I’m sorry that it has to happen, but I just want you to be happy. And I want to be happy with you. I’m always going to be your friend. But you and I know that we want more than that. Please. Go home and do the right thing.”

She lets go of me. I stand there, with my head still down, trying to get rid of the tears. Lifting my head up, I look at her. She smiles.

“Ok”, I say. “Ok.” I walk towards her and give another hug. Still holding her, I say ‘thank you’, as I give her one more kiss.

“Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. Like always.” She walks towards the rocks and sits down again, seeing her dip her toes in the water.

Walking back, I let Xavier know that I’m heading out. He doesn’t ask me anything and simply gives me a hug. I wave goodbye to everyone else and I get in my car.

It’s 3:13 by the time I get back home. I never got a message from her. Looking at the photo once more, I take a deep breath and turn off my phone. It’s time to go to sleep now.

Minnehaha Falls, Minneapolis, Minnesota

February 5/Monday/10:23 A.M.

            I couldn’t get a decent sleep last night. Luna texted me throughout the day yesterday, but I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I just went to work and came straight home. Peter was already working when I got there. He kept trying to talk to me, but I kept avoiding him. My coworkers picked up on it and made sure he didn’t approach me. After he left, he texted me, asking if we could talk. But I just ignored it. This morning, Luna texted me again, asking to call him when I get the chance.

            I left the house about an hour ago and I’m sitting on a bench, looking at the half-frozen waterfall. It’s still too cold outside but I don’t want to be at home right now. I keep thinking about what I did. I want to believe that I only did it because I was drunk and lonely, but I know it’s not true.

            I told Hannah what happened, but she just brushed it off, as if people just do this all the time. “He’s probably slept with someone else too. Don’t worry about it.” That was her response. And I don’t know who else I could talk to about this. Looking through my contacts, the only person that could probably help me out right now is Juanita. I know we’re not good friends, but I just need to talk to someone.

            “Hey”, she answers. “You ok?”

            “Yeah…, well…, no. Not really. I’m sorry this is a little weird, but I didn’t really know who else I could call right now.” I can hear my voice choking up.

            “It’s ok”, she says. “I’m here. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

            “I did something bad. I made a mistake and I think I just ruined the one good thing that I had in my life. And…, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

            There was a pause. I could hear noises coming from her end, but I didn’t hear her.

            “Can I ask you something?”, she finally responds.

            “Yeah.” My voice feels weak.

            “Do you believe that what you did would’ve happened eventually?” I was confused.

            “What do you mean by that?”, I ask.

            “What you did, do you think that eventually it was meant to happen? Like, do you believe that something like that was always going to happen? Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

            I took a moment to take in what she was talking about. I started to think about all the times I became frustrated when he wanted attention. Or when he made me feel bad about what I was doing because he wasn’t there for it. Or everything else that I put myself through, just to make sure he knew that I still loved him.

            “Yes”, I responded. “I think what I did was always going to happen.”

            “Then you know what you have to do. And you know that it’s not going to be easy. But you have to do it. Do you understand?”

            “Yes.”

            “Ok. If you need anything else, don’t be afraid to call me. I know we’re not really friends, but everybody could use someone to talk to sometimes.”

            As she hangs up, I look at my phone again. In the background is a photo of us when we went to Pensacola Beach. He insisted that we have matching background photos. But I never liked that one. Well, the day behind it anyways. We fought the whole car ride over there and we didn’t do what I wanted to.

            I pull up his contact. My hands start to shake but I take a deep breath. As I hear the ringing, my heart begins to accelerate. He picks up but I don’t hear anything on the other end.

“Hey”, I say. I feel this giant lump on my throat. My eyes are staring to feel watery. I can feel my hands shaking.

            “Hey”, he says back. There’s sadness in his voice.

            “We need to talk.”

            “I know.”

Depot Park, Gainesville, Florida

February 5/Monday/11:23 A.M.

            I texted her a couple of times yesterday, but she never replied. The last message I sent her, I told her to call me when she could. That was about 2 hours ago. I’ve been sitting on this bench, staring at the lake, just waiting on anything.

            Gina texted me when I woke up, asking me if I did it already. I let her know that I was going to today. She just said ok. And if I needed anything, to not hesitate and call her.

            As I waited, the only thing I could think about was how soft Gina’s lips felt. I don’t remember how Wendy’s lips feel anymore. I don’t remember how her skin feels either. Her smile feels like a dream, and her voice reminds me of someone I no longer know.

            I look at the photo of us, but all I see is me with a stranger. She has the same photo in her phone too. At least, I think she does. I told her that it’d be cute to have matching photos. Show it off to any stranger or friend, telling them about how much we love each other. But now it feels different.

            I wish that day would’ve been better too. We argued almost the entire trip, about the littlest things like sunblock or snacks. And she made me feel guilty about not doing the things that she wanted to do. But I had already made a schedule and I thought that she would appreciate the organization. Maybe in another lifetime it would’ve been better.

            Still haven’t heard from her. It’s starting to get late. I have to go to work soon.

            I begin to walk back to my car, but my phone starts vibrating.

            I take deep breaths, letting the phone ring a bit. Finally, I pick up, but I don’t say anything. I’ll wait a minute. If she doesn’t say anything, I’ll say something. But I hear a deep sigh.

            “Hey”, she says. Her voice sounds like it’s quivering. It sounds quiet on her end, but I can hear small sniffling.

            “Hey”, I say back. I don’t know what else to say right now.

            “We need to talk.”

            “I know.”

Mae

I don’t remember when I met Mae. I’m sure if I looked back at our conversations, I could pinpoint the exact date. Hell, maybe down to the exact second. Not that it would matter. I still wouldn’t truly remember it. All I know is that one day she was just there. Almost as if I didn’t actually have a life before her. As if I was born knowing Mae. That’s probably how I want it to be anyways. A life without Mae now seems impossible. I had no life before her. Yeah, that’s what it is.

Mae wasn’t like any girl I had met or even knew. How cliché, I know. But I stand by it. Sure, I haven’t met a lot of girls for me to make that conclusion. But every other girl that I have met, I could easily categorize and put in a certain type of group. But not Mae. Mae was her own category. Her own group. She was special because she was one in a billion. She was Mae.

But I don’t mean in looks. Sure, she was pretty, but definitely nothing that made her unique, on the outside anyways. She did have a nice rack on her, but that’s just my simple primitive mind who couldn’t help but to gaze from time to time. Mae definitely knew that I glanced, but never addressed it. I don’t necessarily believe she cared about it, more so became numb to it. She knew her body. Most girls do.

Her eyes, a light brown, really only noticeable with the right sunlight. Her hair, wavy, but leaning more on the curly side. Her stature, below average. I never asked, but I believed she was somewhere around 5 feet even. I myself wasn’t that tall either, merely having around 6 more inches over her, I think. I suppose that’s why she enjoyed being around me. She could still meet me at eye level without straining her neck. And her body? Well, I could never tell. She always wore long dresses. Not the sexy kind either. The ones that an early settler would wear for slumber. And on the days that she would wear shirt and pants, it was always accompanied by a jacket or a sweater, no matter the time of year. I never asked if she felt self-conscious about her body, but I didn’t need to. Her body language said more than I needed to know. There was this one time where she wore this very tight white shirt with a thin black jacket over. The shirt was clear enough that I could see the outline of her bra, with some of her cleavage revealing itself at the top. And yeah, she definitely had curves. But I guess I was staring a bit too long, seeing as she quickly zipped up all the way and crossed her arms. I understood that day why she dressed the way she did. And I definitely didn’t help. Sure felt like an asshole. I was an asshole. I just wish I knew sooner.

But looks or not, Mae was special. I’d like to believe that if people saw what I saw in her, they would understand. But truthfully, I know they wouldn’t. And I think that’s why I liked Mae. And I believe that’s why she liked me. But not enough to be with me.

I never understood why. I never brought it up, but on those days where it was just her and I, my heart wanted the answers more than my mouth could articulate. Every time I felt that the timing was right, I just couldn’t get the words out. My lips whimpered as I looked her way. I didn’t want to stare off into the distance either. I wanted to be a man about it and tell her to her face. But my body weakened every time I stared into those beautiful brown eyes, glowing like honey with the sun rays. And my heart melted when I looked towards her lips. Those beautiful light pink lips. I always wanted to know how they tasted. I’m sure they were soft. And sweet. Oh, so sweet.

But the words never came. No matter how simple the words could’ve been, they always felt trapped between my teeth. I suppose I was more afraid of the damage some simple words could cause rather than the words themselves. I was so fixated on the “what-ifs” that I never acted on any of them. Constantly playing different scenarios in my head based on what I would say. But it wouldn’t make a difference what I thought. Nothing ever happened. My daydreaming was simply just that.

Mae wanted me around. And I didn’t want to ruin that. She always reassured me to speak my mind and that nothing that I said would change the friendship dynamic that we had. But I knew that it would. I knew that things wouldn’t be the same after. But Mae was naïve. She was smart, talented, and incredible at everything that she did. But she was stubborn. Probably the most stubborn person I’ve ever known.

Mae needed to be right. About everything. It was her God complex. I even told her once about it. And that conversation went about as great as you’d expect it to go. So much for speaking my mind. The funny part is, I truly don’t believe she’s aware of what she does sometimes. This need to be right had always been something I knew from the moment I met Mae. There were a few clues here and there, but nothing too obvious.

One day, we had a casual conversation about Homer’s: The Odyssey (between us, that’s pretty casual). She made a small error by simply getting two character’s names mixed up. Simple mistake, happens to the best of us. But not Mae. It was almost as if I told her that her whole family has been brutally murdered. She couldn’t fathom the thought of being wrong. It was pure denial. Chaos. The look on her face made me think that I had completely shattered her perception on life. But I just corrected one small mistake. That was all it took. She got up from the table and walked away, almost looking as if she was about to cry. I didn’t chase after her. I just sat there, completely dumbfounded about what just happened. She didn’t speak to me for a couple days after. Then, she came and sat next to me out of the blue. Didn’t bring up the conversation, nor did she even explain what happened. She just simply started talking as if nothing happened. I wanted to bring it up, but something in my gut told me not to. I just it left it at that.

And I think that’s why I felt I could never say the words that I wanted to say to her. I was afraid of what would happen. As a friend, I could accept when she acted like this. But if we were to be something more, I don’t believe things would end in a way where we could still keep our friendship. Things would just end. And I never wanted things to end with Mae. Mae was my life. And I needed Mae. And Mae needed me.

But sometimes I wished she didn’t need me for everything. She broke up with her boyfriend not too long ago. Obviously, I was there for her through all of it. Listening, comforting, and empathizing. Just days of non-stop crying, frustration, and confusion. I was there for every second of it. So much so that she would come to my house and sleep in my bed. Crying until she fell asleep, while I laid there, wondering whether it was appropriate to hold her, and how to hide the erection she gave me. It was a good thing my room had a couch.

The first few days weren’t a problem. I enjoyed her company. It made me feel good knowing that I was her creature comfort. But after two weeks, I realized, “oh yeah, she’s Mae.” During that whole endeavor, she never once thanked me for the hospitality. She never questioned why I slept on the couch. She didn’t even bother to ask if she could eat my food. She was just Mae. And Mae never saw anything wrong with what she did or would do.

Throughout all the conversations we had about her relationship, not once did she wonder whether she was at fault for anything. Everything was always about him. What he did wrong, how he never listened, why make all those empty promises, etc.… But never about herself. And part of me feels she doesn’t see herself without any flaws. Mae was the smartest person I knew, yet she was unable to see what was right in front of her face. And I don’t believe she ever will.

Mae suffered through a lot growing up. I’ve had my fair share of problems in my household, but Mae, Mae had battle scars. The stories she told me about her parents, and the amount of distain she had towards her mother, have told me enough to know why she is the way she is. Not all of it has been revealed to me, but I knew enough to understand the underlying cause of her character. And the few times that I’ve seen her interact with her mother, it truly paints the picture.

“You can’t choose your family”, she would say. “But you can definitely hurt them the way they’ve hurt you.” Her mother was her enemy, and her home was her prison. This was her first year that she finally tasted freedom. She lived in a small dorm within the campus. A small space, just enough for a bed and homework desk. But Mae loved every square inch of it. This was her escape from the cruelty of the retched hands of her mother. No more did she have to listen to the demands that were forced on her. No more was her life sucked out of every time she entered through the door. No, she was free. She was able to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted; until she had to go home and sleep for curfew, of course. But nevertheless, she had her freedom. But only while it lasted.

Mae was afraid to be vulnerable. She wanted to prove to everyone that she could take care of herself. She wanted to show all of us that she was capable of surviving on her own. She wanted us to see that she could handle any problem that came her way. The thing was, all of us already knew she could. Mae was stronger, and much, much braver than any person I had ever known. She had way better common sense than most of the adults I interacted with. And she knew how to handle herself in any situation.

But Mae had demons. Never once did she share them with me, but she didn’t have to show what I could already see. She didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. No, she needed to prove to herself. Prove to herself that she could make it on her own. Because I knew, deep down I knew, she was always on the edge of total collapse.

Those days when I would completely lose contact from her, I never once worried if she was ok. I knew she was. No, what worried me was what exactly she was doing throughout this time. Mae had a habit of being able to disappear. She knew where to go to give herself space, and she knew she wouldn’t get caught. So, I never bothered looking for her. She would always come back. And she would do this often enough for it to become a routine. It was almost like a cycle every few months. The thing is, every time Mae returned, she wasn’t really herself for the first few days. We would talk and hang out like normal, but there was something about her that made me worrisome. Almost felt as if she was still recovering from something. But things just kept getting worse from here.

Everybody has a breaking point. Even Mae. No matter how hard she tried to keep her head up, I knew that there was something wrong. I knew she was reaching hers.

The school year was about to end. We had successfully made it through our first year of college. We were both ecstatic about getting through it together, but that excitement only lasted shortly. It quickly dawned on Mae that pretty soon, she had to move back into her prison. Her days of freedom were over, for now at least. But Mae had gotten used to the fresh air that she did not want to go back. And I really don’t blame her. Not to mention the fresh wound of her breakup. It was all too much. And I just knew.

            She would still come over and stay the night with me. Her days of crying were over, but she didn’t want to be alone. The fighting began the second she stepped back into her house. So logically, I was her safe haven. Her mother knew me well enough for her to be ok with it. I’m certain she also thought I was gay, but never felt the need to correct her on that. Her views were unconventional, and there’s no point in the telling a stop sign to go. Mae hated the fact that she needed approval to go stay the night with me but tolerated it if it meant she didn’t have to have an aneurysm every single day.

            The first few days of our summer break were pretty well. Mae insisted we spent every second of it together. I knew she was still heartbroken and just needed a distraction to not think about it, but I don’t believe she understood the pain I was going through as well. It felt as if she had my heart wrapped around a cord, squeezing tight. How could she know? I’m the who didn’t tell her. But I enjoyed myself, as much as I could. Deep down, we both just wanted to be happy.

            Things changed drastically around the second week. Mae still stuck around me all the time, like a beautiful leech that she was. But she wasn’t happy, I could tell. We would do almost the same things every day, but now they started to feel like work. There wasn’t anything in particular that I enjoyed doing, other than to be with Mae. So, she was always the one to tell me where to go and what to do with her. And I simply followed. But on those last days, it just wasn’t the same. She would still tell me where to go, but there was no emotion to her actions. There was no feeling to what we did. She was there with me, but somewhere else inside.

            Almost every single day, we would head to her favorite park, and sit on our bench to watch the sun set. It was her favorite part of the day. How beautiful it was to see that massive ball of gas that gives us life slowly descend into the night. And as we watched this exact view day after day, we would talk. Rather, she would talk. Talk about anything and everything that was on her mind. And I listened to every single word. She would repeat herself constantly, but I never mentioned it. I always figured those were the things that she always wanted to say the most. And I enjoyed listening.

            But those last few days, things weren’t the same. We would still walk and sit, but the sound of her voice no longer echoed through that park. She wouldn’t look at me. She wouldn’t talk. She didn’t even seem to care that I was there. But she continued to stare towards the sky, watching as it turned from red, to orange, to yellow, to blue, and then finally, into darkness. All the while, the sounds of nature breaking the silence that was had. I wanted to say something. I wanted to ask what was wrong. I needed to know if she was ok. But I was too much of a coward. My lips whimpering the same way as before. I just couldn’t do it. And I truly regret not saying anything. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, but at least it would’ve given me peace of mind knowing that I tried. But I didn’t. I didn’t.

            She cried a bit that day. Just as the final rim of the sun began to disappear, I noticed tears coming down her cheek. I heard a few sniffs from her nose as she wiped the tears away. She never once looked at me, but I knew she knew. I don’t believe that I would’ve known what to do if I knew what was going through her head. I don’t think there would’ve been anything I could’ve done to help her. But I did wish I knew. At least then, I could’ve understood. But it’s too late for that now.

            When we walked back to my house, she kept quiet as usual. Her head was partially down, looking at the gravel from the road. She didn’t look sad, or scared, or mad, or even tired. She looked nervous. I had seen Mae be nervous a couple of times before. It’s usually when a big test is coming up, or she’s having to do something that she can’t rely on someone else to do. Mae would put her head down and start fiddling with her fingernails, almost as if she was bothered that she had them. Her breathing would also pick up, almost as if she was about to be in a state of panic. At the time I didn’t know why she would’ve been nervous, but I never asked. And I should’ve. But I didn’t. I never did.

            As we entered my house, she went immediately to the room. I stopped by the kitchen to grab something to eat and talk to my mom. This had become our daily routine and she was far more understanding. She kissed me on the forehead and headed towards my room. Mae was already in my bed again, looking through her phone. Didn’t even acknowledge me when I entered, but again, routine. I placed her snacks on the nightstand and went to my couch. I glanced at her once more as she continued to be on her phone. The opportunity to ask again presented itself, but as I looked at her, the words just became trapped in my throat.

Mae was my life. I wanted her to be around all the time. She gave me the best days of my life, and I was there for some of her worst. Mae meant everything to me. And I didn’t want to lose her. So, I never tried. I was always afraid that if I said anything more than what was needed, she would leave. I knew she wouldn’t, but the fear never went away, no matter how many times she reassured me. I loved Mae. And maybe she loved me. But I didn’t try hard enough.

I continued scrolling through the endless garbage of entertainment as the minutes went by. I must’ve been like this for around two hours before looking up. Mae was no longer on her phone, but rather staring towards the wall. I wasn’t so sure what she was looking at, but I could tell she was thinking again. The moment felt right for me to finally ask if she was ok, but as I watched her stare into nothing, I saw her slowly close her eyes. I just gazed at her for a couple of minutes, wondering about what she could possibly be dreaming of. I got up and covered her, grabbing another blanket for myself. As I was setting up my place on the couch once more, I heard her speak.

            “What are you doing?”, she asked, in a very soft voice. I stayed frozen for a second, making sure that I actually heard her.

            “What?”, I replied, sounding stupid.

            “I said what are you doing?”, she asked again, slightly lifting her head from the pillow.

            “I…...uhh…...I’m going to go to sleep now.”

            “Why are you sleeping there?”, she questioned. I stood there for a couple of seconds, wondering if she was being serious. I mean, she knew that I slept there whenever she came over. There would be days when she would already be out of the room by the time I woke up. Her questioning made no sense, but I decided to entertain it.

            “Because I always sleep here when you stay over”, I responded in a sarcastic tone. She looked bothered by this.

            “Did….”, she paused, making direct eye contact with me now. “Did you want to sleep in your bed tonight?” My heart began to race.

            “Where will you sleep then?”, I asked. She looked at me with a look that said: “You know what I’m trying to say.”

            “Come on”, she said with a bit of frustration. “Can you please just sleep with me tonight?”

            I sat there frozen for a moment, gazing up at her and those puppy eyes she was giving me. All my life, all I wanted to do was to hold Mae in a way I’ve never done before. Sure, we hugged all the time, but I knew that this would be intimate. It was just the two of us in this room, and no one could take this moment away from me. But something about the way she was behaving made me feel as if she was doing this because something else was on her mind. And if I only trusted my intuition back then, maybe things would’ve been different today.

            “Ok”, is the only thing that I could say. I raised myself from the couch, bringing the blanket with me. She scootched aside, making space for me to be able to climb over her. As I laid down, my heart began to race, and I could feel my erection rising.

            “Hold me”, she whispered. Mae was still lying on her side, patiently waiting for me to wrap my arms around her.

            “Hang on”, I replied. I quickly adjusted my dick and moved myself in the “big spoon” position. I watched her for a moment, taking in her beauty. I could see curves, and the way her hair rested on the pillow. I took one final deep breath and moved myself towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I tried to start slow, but she instantly grabbed my hands and pulled me in all the way. My crotch was now besides her butt. My erection was contained, and she didn’t seem to notice. I could smell her hair. It smelled wonderful. Part of me wanted to ask what kind of shampoo she used, but knew it wasn’t the right time.

            I laid there for a couple of minutes, trying to grasp what I had dreamed about for so long. Mae was always the girl in my dreams. She was always the one I wanted to talk to. She was always the one I thought about every day. And she was always the one that I thought about when I saw my future. I never knew what it could be. I just knew that I wanted Mae to be there. And here she was.

The minutes went by without a word being spoken. Just the sound of the A/C slowly blowing to keep the room cold. I didn’t mind the lack of words. I wanted to savor every second of this. Feeling my hands on her stomach felt wonderful. It felt as if I was touching the clouds above. Whatever heaven was, Mae was a piece of it here on Earth. And I felt happy.

“Hey”, she finally muttered, breaking the silence. My eyes were already beginning to close. I wasn’t the one to fall asleep pretty fast, but something about holding Mae made me feel safe. Secure. It made me feel that I was right where I needed to be.

“Hey”, I muttered back, not being able to see her face, but still holding her tight. “What’s up?”

She didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. I could tell that she was trying to find her words. Well, maybe the right words.

“I just want to say….”, she paused. Her voice had a slight quiver. I could tell she was holding back her tears, but the mucus was already forming as she sniffled a bit. I wanted to turn to look at her, but she grabbed my hands tighter.

            “I just want to say thank you. For everything. I take you for granted sometimes, and I’m sorry.” She paused again. I wanted to say something, but I knew there was more.

            “Just know that I’m trying to better. It’s hard for me to….”, her voice cracking. I squeezed her stomach harder, laying my head closer to hers. My mouth now besides her ear.

            “It’s ok”, I whispered. “It’s ok.”

            “I’m trying”, she muttered, holding me tighter. Her sniffling was getting louder.

            “I know. It’s going to be ok.”

            In that moment, I knew Mae was asking me for help. For the first time in all the years being with her, I had never seen her so vulnerable. She would cry here and there but would bring herself right up shortly after. She was never stuck in a hole for too long. And she always seemed to be better. But this was the first time I had seen her so afraid. So helpless. So, lost. And Mae needed my help. But I just didn’t know what to do.

            For a couple of minutes, we laid there. I could still hear her quietly weeping, but as I held her close, it began to die down. She became relaxed, and I could feel her breathing go back to normal. The only thing that I felt I could do was to keep holding her. And so, I did.

            “Get some rest Mae”, I finally said, breaking the silence. She didn’t say anything but acknowledged my gesture. And without thinking, I leaned over her and kissed her on the cheek. It was too dark to fully see her face, but I saw the creases of her lips move into a smile. I placed my head back into my pillow and began closing my eyes, holding on to my part of Heaven that was Mae.

            “Hey”, I heard her whisper again. I was on the brink of completely knocking out, but I still managed to hear her voice.

            “Yeah?”, I replied, not even opening my eyes.

            “I just want to say…. I just want to say that I love you. For everything.”

            There was a part of me that felt I was already dreaming. For in my dreams, Mae would always tell me those words. Never in my life did I think she would tell me what I had been longing to hear. But as I could feel her in my arms still, I knew this was very much real. And I knew in that moment I had the chance to say it back. There was nothing that was in my way. There was no excuse I could give myself. And there was nowhere I could run. It was time for me to stop being a coward.

            “I love you too Mae...”, I said, whispering it right into her ear. I grabbed tighter and pulled her as close as possible. “I love you. More than you will ever know.”

            And as my final words came out, I felt her grab my hands and move them towards her lips, as she kissed the top of them. A smile ran across my face as she placed them back to her waist. If I didn’t know what was to come, maybe I would’ve said more. And if I knew what was going through her mind in that moment, maybe I wouldn’t have let go. But I didn’t. I just didn’t.

Mae was the smartest person I ever knew. But she was broken. And all her life, she just wanted to find a way to fix herself. Fix how she felt. Fix how she acted. And most importantly, fix who she was.

When I awoke the next morning, Mae was already gone. I never felt her leave, but it didn’t surprise me that she did. The door to my room was wide open and emptiness filled the room. Her phone was still on the nightstand. This was unusual as she always took her phone, but I gave myself the benefit of the doubt and assumed she was just eating breakfast. As I walked into the restroom, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet the house still was. Mae enjoyed the comfort of having a Television on while she ate. That was usually what always woke me up. But it was silent. Quiet. My heart began to race.

As I walked towards the living room, the only thing that I was hoping for was for Mae to be there, laying on the couch, or sitting in the kitchen table. But as the entire view came to focus, there was nothing. Nobody. Everything was empty. The lights were still off, and the silence only got louder. My heart nearly pumping out of my chest by this point. I walked towards the main door and noticed it unlocked. I glanced around once more to see if we were robbed, but everything was still in its designated place. And as I opened the door, the light from the sun blinded me for a moment, only being able to hear the sounds of life. Birds chirping, wind howling, dogs barking, and cars driving. But everything was the same. Everything except Mae.

Panic took over my body immediately after. Without a second thought, I woke up my parents, asking if they’ve seen Mae. Panic transferred to them just as quickly as it ran into me. They got up and started looking with me. As I continued to look with them, my mother decided to call hers. It didn’t take long for the panic to spread. It became a virus that affected the entire community. Within two hours of my initial worry, everyone was already looking for her. The cops arrived shortly after they made the missing person report. They asked me a bunch of questions. About last night. About the days before. About her character. They asked me if she was suicidal. If she would hurt herself. If she had a diary. If she was sexually active. If I was sexually active. If there was anything she might’ve said to hint she was running away. And so much more. My mind was running a thousand times faster than usual, and the headache that formed just didn’t help the pain that I was feeling. They took her phone with them as they finished my interrogation. And I just sat there, as my world came crumbling down.

The hours turned into days. The days into weeks. And then months. More than half the town stopped looking for her after the third week. My family and hers didn’t. Even as her mother made the appeal on live television, Mae never came back. I had never been around her mother that much before, only knew of her character. But when I saw her cry and break down during her plea, it was a different side of her I had never seen. A side that I didn’t believe she had. Mae made her out to be the villain, the enemy. But here I saw a human being, showing sadness and heartache. Here I saw a mother, just wanting her daughter back.

That summer was the longest summer in my entire life. Every day seemed to be stretched out immensely. I always woke up just as the sun began to rise, and walked to her house, where her mother and I would meet and drive to another part of town. We would hand out flyers whenever we could and go door to door, asking if anyone had seen her. By the end of July, I felt that all of this was hopeless. Her mother, on the other hand, never gave up. She made her living room a set up to try find Mae, including a massive map of the city and the surrounding towns. She would mark off the places we’d been and continue. The coffee table was scattered with flyers, information, and police reports. The bags under her eyes began to grow with each day. She was tired, but she wanted to continue no matter what. And I did too. But I was already losing hope.

The first few days, I would always go to our park and wait at the bench. Part of me felt that if she wanted to see me, or leave some kind of message, it would be here. And so, I would arrive there, always looking thoroughly to make sure she didn’t leave some kind of piece of paper anywhere for me to find. But I never found anything. And so, I would sit there, with the sun disappearing ahead, waiting for Mae.

Those final minutes of the night always felt like an eternity. Everyone that passed by, I wanted to believe it was her. I wanted her to be there again. I wanted her to pop out of the blue and be sitting right there next to me. I wanted to see her face again and know that everything was going to be ok. I wouldn’t even ask where she was or if she’s ok. I just wanted her there. I just wanted Mae back.

There was a week left before the fall semester began again. We had all these plans of things we wanted to see and do. Mae wanted to have as many adventures as she could. She wanted to enjoy her youth while she could. She wanted to be happy. But none of that happened. I didn’t really have much of a choice but to go back to school. My parents understood the pain that I was in but knew that I couldn’t let my education take a pause. They understood that I didn’t want to give up on Mae. But there was an unspoken understanding between all of us that knew. We drained ourselves every single day in hopes that some good news would arise. That some kind of information would come to light. We held on to the belief that everything was going to be well in the end. We held on to that hope. But it was all over now. My parents knew it, and so did I.

I went to go visit her mom one last time. She greeted me with open arms. And as we sat in the kitchen table laughing, crying, and reminiscing about all the memories we had, she knew that it was time to stop as well. She thanked me for doing everything I could, and for being there for Mae.

“You’re a good person”, she said, sniffling a bit. “I know you tried so hard. And I can’t thank you enough for everything you did for me. And I’m thankful that Mae had you in her life. I know she was grateful too.”

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. In an instance, all my emotions came crashing down. Tears ran down my eyes as I felt her warmth and comfort.

“She’s going to come back to us”, she continued, holding me still. “She’s going to come back. And we’ll be here with open arms when she does. Don’t lose hope, ok?”

I couldn’t find the courage to say anything, so I simply nodded. We hugged for a little longer as the last of my tears came out. And as I pulled away, we made eye contact, smiling at one another. She wiped the tears off my face. She opened the front door for me. As I stepped out, I looked back towards her once more, giving her a hopeful smile.

“We’ll see her soon”, she said, smiling back. “I promise.”

“I know”, I said, nodding my head. I watched her close the door. I stood there for a moment, glancing at her house. A house that I ironically became more familiar with after Mae left. She made this place look like a prison, and she made her mother the warden. But during all of this, this place became my second home. Mae didn’t want to give it a chance, and I don’t believe any amount of convincing would change her mind. Because I knew that if none of this happened, Mae wouldn’t have seen her mother the way I got to see her.

It was the last day of summer now. My second semester starts tomorrow. The endless hours of looking for Mae were over. There was still a missing person’s report out for her, but that was the extent that the police could do anymore. People still talked about her around town, but her face slowly faded away from people’s mind. Her mother set up a bed in the living room. She would leave the front porch light on, and the door unlocked at night, just in case. My mother did her best to keep her company on the days that she could. And everyone else went back to their lives.

As the sun began to set once more, I found myself back at our bench. I looked around it again, hoping to find something I hadn’t seen before. But it was empty as always. So, I sat, and looked ahead at the beautiful sun disappear into the darkness. And as I watched onward, tears began forming. Throughout all the searching, questioning, and sleepless nights, I was completely numb. My mind never stopped thinking about Mae. But I could never cry about her. The amount of pain that I felt the day she left is something I know I’m going to carry for the rest of my life. But only now did I truly feel the damaged that she caused me. I wept and wept, screaming, and shouting at the top of my lungs. No one was around me, but I didn’t care if they were. I just wanted to let go.

Mae promised me so much. And I was always there for her, through and through. But as I sat there, alone, I felt so much anger. I know that I would’ve tried to stop her if she had told me her plan, but if I just knew where she was, or if she was safe, then I wouldn’t be hurting as much as I was. But she didn’t. She just left. And now I live with the understanding that even I wasn’t good enough for Mae to trust.

But I know that I would greet her with open arms if she came back right this instant. Because that’s all I want now. For Mae to come back. To her family. To her friends. To me. Mae was beloved. She had her whole life ahead of her. And she had people who she could talk to. But I knew she reached her breaking point. I knew that that string of sanity she was holding on to tore apart a while ago. And no amount of help or comfort would reassure her that she was going to be alright. She did what she had to do. And I’m not going to hold that against her. I just wish that this pain didn’t hurt so much.

The last of the brim of the horizon was closing in. This was Mae’s favorite part of the day. When the sunlight and darkness met for a moment. She would tell me that it was like staring at two forbidden lovers, only being able to see each other for a moment in time every day. But they would make this moment last, for it would make their love stronger. Because even when the moment ends, tomorrow they could do it all over again. And that gives them hope to continue. Mae always had a beautiful way of thinking, and I’ll forever be thankful for getting the opportunity to see her world through my eyes.

Darkness swallowed the sky. It was over now. All of it. Tomorrow started the new chapter of my life. Sitting there, everything felt the same as it was all those months ago. The bench never moved, the sun always set, and the grass always grew. But everything was different now. I took one final deep breath, looking towards the empty seat beside me. I laid down the rose and letter that I brought. Part of me will never give up on Mae, but I understand now how things will be.

Today I reached acceptance. And as I began to walk away, I turned around one last time and smiled. I know how things are going to be from here on out. But I know that my hope will never die. My heart belonged to Mae, and it always will.

I wish I knew what went through her mind all those days ago. I wish I understood why she did what she did. And I wish I could’ve tried to do something. Then, maybe then, things would’ve been different. But I knew that they wouldn’t. Mae was smart. The smartest person I ever knew. She always had a plan for everything. She was always thinking three steps ahead. That night, her mind was already made up. I don’t know how much of it she had planned, but she knew exactly what she was doing. And I should’ve trusted my gut. I knew she was saying goodbye. But I wanted to believe that she just wanted my help. Mae knew how to disappear. Everyone hoped that she would come back like she always does. But I knew the latter. In her mind, she was already gone. It was only a matter of time before she was completely gone. She had a mission, and she achieved it.

I think about where Mae is now all the time. Part of me believes that she’s out there exploring the vast wonderland of this world. Maybe meeting new people, and letting her toes touch the ocean. She always wanted to move to Seattle. Something about the woods and nature always fascinated her. Or maybe she joined the army. She always wanted to be part of it, despite her stature. Not to mentioned she suffered from hip dysplasia. She got it back in high school after a terrible fall or something like that. It upset her at the time because she knew she wouldn’t be able to pass the physical anymore if she joined. Still, I’d like to believe that she found a way to enlist herself. Her charisma and charm always worked on everyone, so it wouldn’t surprise me if it worked on a recruiter. Whatever the case, I just hope that wherever Mae was at, she was happy. Because after all, that was truly the one thing she was chasing after. And I hope she found it.

I don’t remember when I met Mae, but I’ll never forget the day that I lost her. Mae was my life, and she will always continue to be my life, wherever she is. Mae was smart, funny, charismatic, witty, naïve, stupid, and beautiful. But most importantly, Mae was Mae. And I knew that she was always going to be ok. Because she always needed to be ok. She always needed to be right. But the truth is, she didn’t need to be right. She was right. She was always right. And I know that deep down, just once, she wanted to be wrong.

Missing

(Disclaimer: Everything you’re about to read is purely of fiction. This story serves to bring attention to the real-world events that occur every day, as many people go missing without the possibility of ever being found.) 

Missing

Name: Dave Carter-Jones

Date Missing: June 4th, 2016

Age: 16

Sex: Male

Race: African American

Height: 5’ 7” (170 cm)

Weight: 139 lbs (63 kg)

Build: Average

Eyes: Dark Brown

Hair Color: Black

Last Seen: Bighorn National Forest, Buffalo, Wyoming

Originally From: Sheridan, Wyoming

General Information

Dave Carter-Jones was last seen with his 5 friends at the Shell Creek Campground on Bighorn National Forest in Buffalo, Wyoming. Dave reportedly was last seen going inside his tent at around the hours of 10 to 12 at night. His friends found his tent empty the next morning, with no evidence of forced entry or disturbance. A massive search has been done of the entire Bighorn National Forest, with no evidence found. Dave was last seen wearing a plain red collared shirt, with ripped light blue jeans, white sneakers, and a blue crossed-stitched flannel. A piece of the flannel was found 19 miles west by highway 14, close to the small town of Shell, Wyoming, suggesting a possible abduction. Wyoming Highway Patrol detectives continue to search the 30 miles radius around the park in attempt to find any other evidence to Dave’s disappearance.

The Carter-Jones family continues to offer a $20,000 reward for any new information. The Wyoming Highway Patrol is also offering a $5,000 reward for information leading to the resolution of this case and/or information leading to the arrest and conviction to the person(s) responsible. If you have any information, please contact the Wyoming Highway Patrol at: (800) 442-9090

Police Report

            On June 4th, 2016, at around 11:27 A.M., a distressed 911 call was received about a missing person. Officer Feliciano and Officer Locklear were sent to investigate the situation at the Shell Creek Campground on Bighorn National Forest. Upon arrival, they were met with 5 teenagers/young adults, all in a state of panic/shock. Officer Locklear asked the group who had made the call. Ezra Evans, 22, stated that he was the one that made the call.

            Ezra reports that he was the first one to wake up that morning, at around 10:15 A.M. He went to use the restroom, and upon returning to the campsite, he noticed the zipper on Dave’s tent had been opened. Ezra went to go investigate and noticed him missing. He assumed that he must’ve gotten scared, or possibly lonely sometime in the night and went to go sleep in another tent. But upon looking inside the other 2 tents, Dave was nowhere to be found. Ezra claims that at this point, he began to panic. Before waking the others, he went to go check out the cars to see if Dave decided to sleep inside, but they were untouched. Ezra states that he walked over to the next campsite, about a half a mile away from his, and asked the family of 3 if they had seen anyone walking in that direction. They claim to not have seen anyone, as they’ve been awake since 6 that morning.

            Ezra states that after returning to the campsite, he woke up the remaining friends to help him search all around the campsite. The family of 3 also joined in on the search. They claim that they went up and down the hiking trails that they had gone through the day prior, hoping that Dave might have decided to take a solitary walk. After an hour, the search was at a standstill and that’s when Ezra decided to make the 911 call.

            A massive search has been made of the entire park with the help of local officials, as well as citizens from the nearby towns. No evidence was found, nor has a body been recovered, suggesting a possibility of possible abduction or a case of a runaway adolescent. Detectives have yet to dismiss all possibilities.

            As of now, there have yet to be any new leads or information. No evidence, such as footprints or tire marks, were found on the campground. There were indeed footprints but have been confirmed to be of the other associates. Tire marks were also found but have since been confirmed to be of the SUV of the family of 3. A piece of clothing was found about 19 miles west of the park, close to the small town of Shell, Wyoming by highway 14. It is believed to be from the flannel that Dave was last seen wearing the day prior to his disappearance. Dave’s friends and family have strong belief that it could be his. No DNA or fingerprints were found on the fabric, but the condition that it was found suggests a possibility of struggle.

            Police have interviewed nearly the entire town of Shell, Wyoming, but no one has come forth with new evidence. One townsman claims he saw a type of sedan-looking car at around 4:30 A.M. travelling west. The witness was awoken by the sound of his dog barking, and when he went outside to check it out, he noticed the car travelling at a high velocity, going west. The witness states that the car looked like it may have been black but noticed that it might have been possibly dark blue, claiming that it was too dark to tell. No one else has come forth to back up this claim.

            As of now, the case is still ongoing, with detectives still searching the park for any more clues, as well as the 30 miles radius around the park. Detectives are considering extending the search into further states, but without any new leads, the case must remain within state lines. Dave’s friends and family continue to remain hopeful.

            In effort to gather new information, Dave’s family has been interviewed to possibly help the investigation. The 5 friends that were also with Dave, as well as the family who helped them search the campgrounds, have also been interviewed. Attached below are their statements, comments, and/or alibis:

Name/Age: Darryl Carter-Jones, 51

Relationship: Father

“I know my son. He would never run away like this. He had a future ahead of him. Every day after school, I would make sure that he would do all his homework before he would play any video games. He was a good kid. I would never tell him to practice his trumpet, because he would just do it himself. He never disrespected me and would always be a great big brother. He cared about all of us, and all his friends. It just doesn’t make sense for him to just leave all of it behind like that. I made sure that he grew up in a household that didn’t hold any secrets.

I keep telling myself that I regret giving him approval to go on this trip, but this is something that I would’ve never seen happening. And I know that it could’ve happened to any of his friends. But it just happened to be him.

The last time I saw him was Thursday night. He was getting ready for the trip. He spent the entire afternoon getting ready. I still remember his face. He was so excited. We’ve been on trips before to the forest, but this was the first time he was going with friends. I just wanted him to be happy. I even gave him one of my pocket knives. It was a proud moment. Even though he still had one more year of high school, this just felt like the start of him being a man.

I left the house Friday morning, at around 6:00 A.M. to go to work. I stopped by his room one last time. He was still sleeping. He texted me throughout the day, letting me know where he was and how he was doing. I wasn’t worried when he stopped texting me. I just figured he wanted some time alone with his friends.

We’re still searching for him. And if I didn’t have to work so much, I would be out there, every day, searching for my son. My wife still prays for him every night. And I think about it him every single day. I just don’t know how much more I can do to help find him. He was a smart kid. He didn’t deserve this. He had a future.

And someone took all that away. Someone took him and I know it. And I’m not going to rest until I find the son-of-a-bitch who did this to him.”

Name/Age: Angela Carter-Jones, 47

Relationship: Mother

“My son was a good boy. He was my angel. I always did my best as a mother to make sure that he knew he was well loved by everyone, especially me. There were times when we weren’t on good terms, but I still let him know that I cared about him. This last year, he’s been quieter about things. And it did hurt me when he wouldn’t share his day with me, but I understood that he was growing up. I told him that he could always come to me and tell me things, but he did that more with his father. And I understand. At least he was able to talk to someone.

I stayed up with him until close to midnight on Thursday, making sure that he had everything that he needed for the trip. He didn’t like that I made a list for him, but I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. I was just a little nervous about him going on this trip. This was the first time he was going somewhere alone. I knew he was going to be with his friends, but I still felt uncertain. I know that’s just me still worrying about my babies, but I can’t help it.

I usually wake up at the same time as my husband, but I woke up earlier than usual that Friday to prepare him some meals for the trip. He didn’t ask me for any, since he said that they were going to bring some food, but I just wanted to be safe. I placed them inside one of his bags, with a small letter, hoping he wouldn’t get mad.

His friends arrived at the house around 9 A.M. I watched him as he took his stuff to the car and came back. Before he left, I did a small prayer with him and gave him a rosary. He made a face when I gave it to him, but he took it. And that was the last time I saw my baby boy. I heard about the news the next day. My husband came over not too long after. We only have 2 cars and my daughter had already taken the other one to work. She also came to the house not long after that. I hate thinking about that day now.

I still pray for my son every day. He started to hate church when he turned 15, but I always told him to have faith in God. I just hope that one day I get to see my baby boy again. I know God is protecting him.”

Name/Age: Kayla Carter-Jones, 21

Relationship: Older Sister

            “I do miss my brother every day. We weren’t really speaking, since I was doing my own thing and he had his group of friends that he always hanged out with. I didn’t really see him much this last year. I know we all live together, but I go to school every single day and then I go to work. After work, I usually go out and hang out with my girlfriends. I don’t get home until late at night. He would already be asleep by that time.

            I think the last time I saw him was that Thursday morning. My best friend had graduated and so I was going to stay with her for the weekend. We just partied all weekend. Until I got that call on Saturday. I was extremely hung over, and so I took a while before I got home. I didn’t want my mom to see me that way. She still doesn’t know that I drink.

            But yeah, Thursday morning was the last time I saw him. He was eating breakfast at the dinner table. He just subtly asked me what the best way was to approach a girl. I knew he’d been liking this girl he’s always hanging out for a while now. Tessa, I think. She went with them. I know that cause that was the only reason he was going. I remember making fun of him for it. He’s not really the type of person to go outside. I mean, we’ve been camping before as a family, but he’s never liked it. So, this was kind of funny for me.

            I didn’t see him after that cause I pretty much spent Thursday and Friday getting drunk out of my mind. Please don’t tell my mom. But anyways, yeah. I’m not sure what else I could say. Like I said, we weren’t really talking. I was already doing my own thing. I was even thinking about moving out of the house soon. But I don’t think I can anymore. My mom still cries every night. And I hate seeing her cry, but I know that it would hurt her more if two of her children were gone. I’m sad about him being gone, but not as sad as I should be. But I do miss him. He’s my brother. And I’m still his sister.”

Name/Age: Booker Carter-Jones, 12

Relationship: Younger Brother

            “My mom’s been crying every day since he left. I try to comfort her, but she just cries even more. She’s also kept his room very clean too. She tells me not to go in there anymore. I don’t like that I can’t go inside his room. She tells me that it’s for my own good. I think she’s just trying to protect me, but I don’t think she understand that I miss him too.

            The house is really quiet now. I still play games, but it doesn’t feel the same. We would usually take turns playing. It was always fun. He helped me get better at GTA and Call of Duty. But I don’t feel like playing anymore. I don’t want to get better than him.

            I wanted to go with him on this trip, but he didn’t want me to. He said that I was going to just be in the way. I told him that I just wanted to spend some time with him, but he just kept saying no. My mom had said no anyways, but I still wanted to go. I even helped him pack up the day before he left too. He was packing a lot of stuff. I don’t know much about camping, so I don’t know if that was a lot of stuff. I know we’ve been camping as a family before, but I don’t remember much. I was 5 or something like that when we’ve gone.

            I didn’t see him when he left. I was still sleeping. School was over and I could sleep in. But I told him to be careful before I went to sleep.

            I was with my mom when she got a call. She was in the kitchen, and I was in the living room. I just heard her yell and start crying. I thought she had cut herself. I didn’t know why she was crying until my dad came home about an hour later. I was just with my mom, laying down with her on the kitchen. She didn’t want to get up. I was really worried that she was sick or something. When my dad came, he picked her up and we went searching for him. I’ve never done so much walking. We go walking to the forest almost every day now. My mom is always yelling out his name. She says that she’ll stop until she hears something back. I just want her to be ok. I just want my brother to be ok.”

Name/Age: Erickson Family, 32, 30, 6

Relationship: Witnesses

“We were already camping there since Wednesday. This was sort of our family vacation. We’re originally from Cheyenne, Wyoming. Every year we go to a new forest, and this is where we decided to come to this year. We just hiked and explored the park, trying to see as much as we could every day.

We saw them arriving at the campground on Friday, sometime before noon that day. It was just us and them at the campground. It’s usually always quiet during that time of the year. So, we were surprised when we saw another group. My wife was hesitant about staying there, but they seemed to keep to themselves.

We didn’t see much of them after they arrived. We went to go hike up north, close to Cabin Creek. I think they went hiking downriver of Shell Creek. They were camping about half a mile down from us, so they didn’t bother us. I could hear music and see a bonfire, but nothing that seemed suspicious.

The next morning, we woke up early again, around 6:00 A.M., for our usual hike to see the sunrise. We didn’t notice anything unusual. I didn’t actually see much when we left for the hike. We returned around 9:15 A.M. I caught a small glimpse of their campground, and it still looked the same as before we left.

At around 10:30 A.M., we were approached by a young gentleman, Ezra I believe, asking us if we had seen anyone walking past by us, which we said no to. He looked extremely worried and agitated. We decided to help them out in searching the area as much as we could that day. We used our last day of our vacation to help them in the search to find him. But we had to leave the next day. They thanked us for everything we were able to do. We still wish we could’ve done more if it wasn’t for having to return back home. I hope they find him.”

Name/Age: Demetric Orr, 16

Relationship: Friend

            “I don’t think there’s a single memory that I have where Dave wasn’t in it. We’ve been best friends since as long as I can remember. We went to elementary, middle, and high school together. He was my best friend. His family moved into my neighborhood when I was like 7. His mom didn’t really let him out to play that much in the beginning. But we would just hang out in his room pretty much every day after school. We made a lot of memories in that room. His mother hasn’t given me the opportunity to see it since the incident, but I understand that that’s her way of coping with what’s going on.

            I was the one that invited Dave to come with us. He didn’t really want to, but I kept insisting that he did. I convinced him because I told him that our other friend, Tessa, was going to be there. He’s been having this huge crush on her since middle school. And I know that she liked him too. So, I thought it’d be a cute idea for them to be with each other for a couple of days. They’ve always played this game of will-they-won’t-they for years now. It honestly started to get annoying. So, I figured that going on this trip would be a fun idea.

            The thing was, I wasn’t supposed to go on this trip either. This was actually a trip that my sister had already planned with her boyfriend. She graduated from high school and this was their way of celebrating. She was only supposed to go with her friends and her boyfriend. But I think some of her friends backed out at the last minute and my mom was refusing to let her go on her own with him. In the end, the only people that were still on board to go was her best friend and her boyfriend. She didn’t want her friend to be the third wheel, so that’s when she told me that I could come. That’s when I invited him and Tessa. And that’s how it was.

            I kept teasing Dave about getting lucky with Tessa. I know he wanted to try something, but he’s always been the nervous kind of person. I never understood why it was so hard for him to get close to her. They both played trumpet in the band. It’s not like he couldn’t see her. But I’m getting off track here.

            Our plan that first night was to get Tessa to come join him in his tent some time in the night. My sister told me that Tessa had to sleep in the same tent as her friend, even though she was sleeping in a tent with her boyfriend. Me and Dave had our own tents. So, I was going to be the lookout when Tessa came out and I would make sure to wake up extra early to make sure we didn’t get caught. But we hiked so many miles on Friday that we were exhausted by the time we went to sleep. Dave still wanted to go with the plan, but I completely knocked out. I awoke the next morning by my sister’s boyfriend, asking me if I knew where Dave was. I thought at first that maybe he had gone out with Tessa somewhere to be alone, but when I got out of my tent, I noticed she was there too.

            We spent the entire day searching for him. I just kept thinking to myself that maybe he was playing some weird joke with me, like we used to. But the more time passed, the more I realized what was going on. When the day ended, we all went back to our houses. I couldn’t talk to Tessa when all of that happened, but I can only imagine how sad she felt. Because I still feel like shit every day. But I think about what would’ve happened if Tessa was in his tent with him.

            They still haven’t ruled out abduction. And I think about that a lot. Because if Tessa was also there, maybe they would’ve taken her too. And losing two of my best friends would’ve been the end of me. I don’t even feel at home anymore. I pass by his house every day still, and I always feel like crying because my best friend is no longer there. I’m still trying to do my best to help his family in the search. But honestly, the more days go by, the more I think that I’ll never get to see him again. People still believe that they’ll find him, but I just don’t know anymore.”

Name/Age: Amber Carlucci, 18

Relationship: Friend

            “To be honest with you, I don’t actually know Dave very well. All I knew about him was that he was my friend’s little brother’s friend. And the only reason why they came with us on this trip was because our other friends said they couldn’t come, which was total bullshit. This was supposed to be our graduation trip but instead we pretty much had to babysit the entire trip. I mean, they didn’t really bother us, but I still felt like we could’ve done so much more if they weren’t there. But I guess it beats being the 3rd wheel.

            Like I said, I only know Dave because of Ann. I would sometimes see him in Ann’s house when I would come over. Him and Demetric were super close. And from what I know, he also had a crush on this girl, Tessa, which I had to share a tent with. I didn’t want to, but Ann asked me to. She didn’t want them to do anything crazy that would get her in trouble, so I let her. She was ok. I probably wouldn’t be friends with her though.

            The last time I saw Dave was the night before he disappeared. We had just come back from our hike. We were all sitting by the bonfire, making some smores with some music in the background. I was sitting next to Ann, but she was too busy making out with Ezra. Me, Ezra, and Ann left after a while to go near the river. Ann wanted to skinny dip, but the river was too cold and moving too fast. So, we just hanged around there for a bit. Ezra took out some vodka and we got a little drunk. When we returned, they were all sleeping in their tents. Ezra checked the tents to make sure they were there before we went to sleep.

            Ann woke me up the next morning, telling me that they couldn’t find Dave anywhere. We spent the entire day searching for him. We had to go home later that night. We were supposed to stay there until Sunday, but they didn’t let us. Everyone was just kind of sad about what happened. I mean, I feel sad too, but like I said, I didn’t really know him very well.

            Ann tells me that her brother is still sad about it. He hardly comes out of his room anymore. I feel bad for the guy. I probably would’ve been in the same position if Ann was the one that got abducted. She keeps reminding me that it could’ve been any one of us. I’m just happy it wasn’t me.”

Name/Age: Ann Orr, 18

Relationship: Friend

            “I feel a little weird right now. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…I’ve known Dave all my life, but having to look back at it now, I don’t think I actually knew him. And it feels even weirder because I pretty much saw him grow up. Him and my brother. They were practically each other’s brothers. For the most part, Demetric and Dave kept to themselves. My brother would usually go to his house, but sometimes Dave would come over. And I watched both of them grow up. But me and Dave were never friends. We just knew each other. The only times we would actually talk was when he asked me about Demetric, if he couldn’t find him.

            This trip was only supposed to be me and my friends, but nearly all of them backed out at the last minute. My boyfriend was the one that had suggested it in the first place. He wanted us to be alone so we could celebrate my graduation, but my mom straight up said no. She still doesn’t like him very much. She hates the fact that he’s way older than me. He’s only 4 years older than me though. I really don’t see what the big deal is. But anyways, I suggested that we invite my other friends so we could make it like a party. So, that’s what we did. My mom was still hesitant about it, but eventually she said yes. But when they all backed out, except for Amber, she said no again, even though we had already bought all this stuff for the trip. That’s when I decided to invite my brother and his friends. I didn’t want to, but that was the only way that she would’ve let me go.

            They didn’t really bother us on the trip though. They joined us when we hiked, but they pretty much kept to themselves. It was just Demetric, Dave, and Tessa. And Dave was in love with Tessa, I think. Demetric had told me that a girl was coming on this trip. I knew that they also were planning on doing something, but I wasn’t going to let him. It was already bad enough that they had to come with us, but now I felt like I had to babysit them. So, the girl ended up sleeping with Amber in her tent. Amber wasn’t really happy about it, but it was the only way I could make sure they weren’t going to do something stupid.

            But like I said, they didn’t actually bother us. We pretty much hiked that entire first day, and then went back to the camp. And that was the last time I saw him. They were sitting by the fire making smores, while Ezra, Amber, and me went down by the river to drink and maybe swim a bit. I wanted to go skinny dipping, but Ezra told me the river was flowing too fast. So, we just drank, and I made out with him for a bit. I think I got drunker than them cause I could barely hold myself. Ezra was pretty much carrying me back. I didn’t see them before we got to our tents. But Ezra told me that he made sure they were already in their tents sleeping.

            Ezra woke me up the next day, telling me that he couldn’t find Dave. He woke me up first before the others. I was still a little hungover, but I decided to help out. And then, well, everything else happened. After Ezra called the cops, we spent the entire day searching. Our parents got to the park like 3 hours later. And the party was pretty much over.

            I kind of regret bringing them with us, but I sometimes think about what would’ve happened if my friends were there. They haven’t ruled out a possible abduction, and so I think about that a lot. Like, if they were there instead of my brother’s friends, maybe one of them would’ve been kidnapped. I don’t know. I just know that my brother is upset. I would be too if I was in his position. It sucks though. It literally could’ve been any one of us. I don’t think I want to go camping anymore.”

Name/Age: Ezra Evans, 22

Relationship: Friend

            “Full disclosure, there’s not much that I can tell you that will help you find Dave. I didn’t even know the kid until the day that we picked him up. Ann had mentioned that she was going to bring her brother and that her brother was going to bring some of his friends. Honestly, I really wasn’t all for it, but this was the only way that me and Ann could be alone, even if we weren’t really.

            I’ve been going out with Ann for almost 2 years now. I met her when I was a senior in high school. She was a freshman. We were both taking health together. I needed to take the course to graduate and she just happened to be there. We quickly got to know each other. When I graduated, we still kept in contact, but I didn’t really do much until a few years later. I didn’t go to college, so I pretty much just worked all the time. I wanted to leave this stupid town after I graduated but my dad got sick and the hospital bills were stacking up. So, I stayed. Then I go to know Ann even more after that. She helped me get through a lot, even after my dad died. A lot of people thought it was weird that we were going out, including her parents. They didn’t like the idea of her going out with someone much older than her. But it didn’t stop us.

            This entire trip was really my idea. Ann graduated high school and I wanted to celebrate by taking her somewhere far from home so we could enjoy ourselves. My idea at first was just to go camping with her alone. You know, be a little romantic. But her mom said no. So, she invited her friends and almost all of them said yes. They wanted to get drunk and have fun. And since I was already over 21, Ann asked me to get alcohol for them. But then they all backed out like a week before the trip, except Amber, her best friend, who is honestly a little clingy. But whatever. And her mom once again said no. So, Ann made the decision to invite her brother and his friends, just so her mom can say yes. And that’s how the trip was made.

            I was pretty much held responsible for everything that happened. I knew that I had to pretty much take care of everyone since I was the oldest, but I honestly wasn’t prepared for what happened. We got there on Friday, and we were going to leave Monday morning. My plan was to hike as a group the first day and then the next two days, just be alone with Ann.

            The last time I saw Dave was when were all sitting together by the bonfire after our hikes. He was sitting next to that girl everybody said he liked. Ann wanted to drink, but I didn’t want to do in front of them. So, we went by the river to drink. It was alright. I was bothered by the fact that Amber came too, but it was whatever. Ann pretty much drank a lot that night. She even wanted to go skinny dipping, even though the water was cold, and it was flowing hard. We were there for a bit but then it got late. I had to carry her back to the campground. When we got back, they were already in their tents sleeping. I put Ann in our tent and went to go check out the other tents to make sure they were there. It was like 1 in the morning. Then I went to sleep.

I woke up like at 10 cause I really had to pee. I went behind some trees and when I came back, I noticed that his tent was opened. I went to check it out and it was empty. The only thing that was there was his sleeping bag. I went to the other tents to see if he was there, but I just saw everyone else still sleeping. I looked around, but I didn’t notice anything strange. I went to go check out the cars, but they were still there. It didn’t look like anybody tried to get in. That’s when I decided to walk down the street to talk to the other people that were camping there. I remember looking down at the road to see if there were any footprints or tire marks, but it was just dirt. When I talked to the family, they told me they didn’t see anything. That’s when I began to panic. I returned to the campsite and woke everyone else up. And that’s when I called 911. It just all happened so fast. I didn’t know what to do. I told the officers everything that I knew. I even confessed to them about the drinking, but we were more worried about finding Dave.

We spent that entire day trying to find him but ended up with nothing. Ann’s parents came and took her and her brother home. We ended up cutting the trip a day short and I went home alone. Ann seems bothered by the fact that we had to cut our trip short and that it wasn’t what she wanted, but I’m just thinking about what would’ve happened if it was just the two of us who ended going on this trip. I’m not that strong and I don’t think I would’ve been able to protect myself, let alone protect her. I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t know the kid. But I understand how it feels to lose someone you care about. And I can only imagine how hard it is for his family right now. Part of me still feels like this is my fault.”

Name/Age: Tessa Warshaw, 16

Relationship: Friend

            “I don’t think I’ve been able to stop crying since that day. I keep finding myself in the same state of mind every night now. My parents decided that it was best that I start going to therapy, but I don’t think it’s working. I just don’t know how I can get better right now. I keep thinking about him every day. I miss him. Every time I’m in band, I turn to see if he’s there, but all that’s there is an empty chair. Demetric still tries to talk to me whenever we have class or sometimes during lunch, but I just don’t feel like talking to him. The only thing we ever had in common was Dave. I just want to give up doing everything, but I know that’s not what Dave would want me to do. I just feel so alone right now. He was my best friend.

            I think everyone else has already said this, but I did have a huge crush on Dave. I think I’ve had it since the day that I met him. He was just this funny, cute looking guy, whose smile would always make me smile and laugh. And I knew he liked me back, but he was always too shy to make any moves. And I didn’t really mind it to be honest. I thought it was cute. He would sometimes put his hand close to mines, but he would never actually touch it. Or when we would hang out together. I would always call it a date, but he brushed it off as two friends just hanging out. I knew he wanted to be with me, but I wasn’t going to pressure him into it. I’m getting off topic, I know. I just can’t help but to think about everything that we’re not going to do anymore.

            Going on this trip was Demetric’s idea. He told us like a week before the trip. I’m not really the type of person to go outside and enjoy the nature but Demetric insisted that I go. He told me that Dave was going and that it would be a good idea if we got a chance to be together like that. I still didn’t want to go, but I also wanted to spend some more time with Dave. School had just ended, and we had to go to summer band camp the following week. So, I figured this would be the only time where me and Dave would have some time alone, even if we were going to be with Demetric and his sister. I was allowed to go because my mom knew that another girl was going and that I was to sleep in her tent.

Demetric and his sister picked me up that Friday. Her friend and boyfriend came along as well. I didn’t actually know that until the day of, but it didn’t really matter. We picked up Dave last, since his house was at the end of the street. I still remember his face when he saw me. We all sat in the back, squeezed together. I was in the middle and he was right next to me.

That day, we spent most of it just hiking up some trails and going close to the river. I walked with Dave the entire hike and we pretty much talked about anything. We returned to our campground around 7:15 P.M. It was already dark by the time we got there. Demetric’s sister’s boyfriend made a bonfire and we cooked ourselves some hot dogs and then some smores. I sat next to Dave the entire time there. After a while, Demetric’s sister, her boyfriend, and her friend left. I think they went down to the river. We didn’t follow them. We just stayed there for a bit, jus staring at the campfire while we had some music in the background. Demetric actually got up and said that he was going to go to sleep already. And then it was just the two of us.

And that was the last time I saw Dave. We sat by the bonfire for a bit. We didn’t say much. I laid my head on his shoulder, but he didn’t do anything. He just kept staring at the fire. He told me thank you for coming on the trip. But he didn’t make a move or anything. We just sat there. And after a while, I began to get tired myself. Demetric’s sister still hadn’t come back, but it was starting to get late. So, Dave walked me over to my tent, gave me a hug and said goodnight. I felt like he wanted to say something else, but he never did. I just went to sleep. I felt the tent move around later in the night when the other girl came in. But that was it.

I woke up the next morning by the sounds of the girl getting up, saying something about Dave being gone. And shortly after, everything else happened.

His parents still try to search for him every day, and I try to help out whenever I can. But with school and band, it’s becoming harder to do. I don’t want to lose hope, but the more days go by, the more I start to realize that I don’t think I’m ever going to see Dave again.”

Final Message

As of June 20th, 2018, Dave Carter-Jones remains missing. No new evidence has been obtained and there still haven’t been any new leads to help find Dave and/or to help close his case. Dave’s parents continue to remain hopeful that they will find him one day. Dave’s father, Mr. Darryl Carter-Jones, has taken up a second job to help with the costs of hiring investigators and detectives to help with the search. Dave’s mother, Mrs. Angela Carter-Jones, has also taken a job, though her health is slowly deteriorating from the stress that she’s had the last 2 years. Dave’s sister, Kayla Carter-Jones, has decided to remain living in the house to help with the costs as well. She continues to go to school at Sheridan College. Dave’s brother, Booker Carter-Jones, is now in high school and learning to play trumpet to keep his brother’s legacy alive, though he feels that his brother might not ever return, or worse, might be dead. Dave’s two other friends, Tessa and Demetric, also remain hopeful that he is still out there. They have since graduated high school and gone to college. Demetric decided to stay in town and go to Sheridan College as well. Tessa, on the other hand, has moved to Rapid City, South Dakota to study at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology. She returns home whenever she can, always hoping that Dave has been found. Dave would be 18 today. The case remains open. Today, the Carter-Jones is one of hundreds of thousands of families who will suffer with the disappearance of a loved one. And though their chances of ever being found again are slim to none, they remain hopeful, continuing to do whatever it takes to be able to see them again.