No One Was Supposed to get Hurt
Emily saw her target dressed in that short black dress with the ridiculous fringe and black sequined skull cap pulled down over her blond bob. It has been several months since her sister’s death, and she thought that it was now or never. Having learned the truth about the night of the fall dance, she was ready to confront Vivian.
“Look at her.” she thought upon seeing the other girl standing laughing with her friends. Some of them used to be Emily’s friends.
She approaches the group where they stand at the corner of Broadway and Downer. It seems like a lifetime ago that here sister and she were dress shopping for that same fated night a few months earlier.
She shouts: “Vivian!”
Startled the girl turns and asks: “What is it Emily? Can’t you see that I’m talking with my friends. You know Fran don’t you?”
“Hi, Emily,” Fran attempts weakly.
Not taking her eyes off Vivian spits: “Don’t bother Fran.”
“How dare you insult me, Vivian, by asking me what,” she continues” You know exactly why I’m here, and it’s about the night of the Fall Dance!”
“You mean the night that you let your sister die because you were too busy washing punch out of your dress?” Vivian retorts.
A shocked gasp runs through the group of teenagers and some of the adults who are within ear shot. Most of the bystanders begin to turn away, but the teenagers and a few adults pull closer in morbid curiosity.
“We all know that was an accident and there wasn’t anything that could have been done,” interjects Fran more strongly than earlier.
“I guess we’ll never know since Princess Emily just stood there while Marie died,” states Vivian.
“How do you know so much about that night, Vivian?” asks Emily” When I called for help, it was Debbie here that showed up on the scene first. Isn’t that right, Debbie?”
Now all eyes are on Debbie who manages to make her petite 5′2″ self look even smaller. Her eyes roll around like a trapped animal looking for some escape from the predator that has it backed into a corner.
Finding no escape Debbie’s shoulders slump: “That’s right Emily. I heard your screams while I was walking towards the bathroom and rushed in to find you on the floor next to your sister.”
“What else do you know Debbie?”
“That’s all I know,” her lips twist with the bitterness of her lie.
“Your face says differently. I should tell you that I’ve been to the police, and they said even knowing about a crime and not reporting it is as bad as the crime itself. What do you think your chances of going to the University of Chicago now would be Debbie?”
Seeing no escape. Debbie’s eyes stop rolling and the crowd moves tighter around the three, Vivian, Debbie, and Emily.
“Fine!” exclaims Debbie seeing nowhere to run: “Vivian thought that it would be a fun prank to slip impicac into your sister’s drink to make her puke all over Mark during their dance. No one thought that she would get hurt. My mother gives that stuff all the time when I have had too much to eat.”
“That’s a dirty lie!” screams Vivian pushing Debbie into Emily.
“It probably would have been harmless if she hadn’t run to the bathroom first and hadn’t happen to puke before she got to the toilet and hadn’t happened to slip in it and hadn’t happened to hit her head on the sink at just the right angle. But...she did and now shes dead thanks to Vivian.” says Emily more sad than angry now.
“It is true. I helped distract Marie while she did it. I’m sorry Emily.” sobs Debbie into Emily’s should.
Emily pushes Debbie off onto Fran who holds her friend and states in a shaky voice” I thought that was a rumor. I couldn’t believe anyone could be so cruel.”
Vivian screams:” Let me go! You’re all liars! Why are you saying these things!?”
The crowd forms a tighter more closed circle around the group. The teenagers with shocked looks on their faces and the adults with serious concerned frowns.
“Because it’s the truth Vivian. You’ve always disliked my sister and wanted Mark for your self. I don’t think that you meant for her to die, but your actions caused her to have that accident. You watched it happened outside the bathroom door and ran away before you could be caught. Obviously, you felt guilty, or you would have said or done something.”
Still sobbing Debbie says: “It’s true. I saw you run by me. I’ll testify to that if I need to Emily. I’ll go to the police right now! I’ll tell them everything!”
Just then one of the women stepped forward saying: ” I think that’s a good idea. I think we should go down to the station right now and have a little conversation with a detective.”
Seeing her opening in the crowd Vivian lets out a triumphant scream: “Yes!!” and rushes through hole and onward to cross the street. Just then a truck carrying furniture comes barreling down the street and strikes the girl knocking her down and dragging her body under its wheels for half a block before coming to a stop. There’s no doubt that she is dead. All faces are turned away except for Emily’s whose eyes are round with horror and hand covers gaping mouth.
His lips were the softest of all I've felt
His smell was pleasant undescribable
An earthy smell like none I've ever smelt
The smell left by passing elves in a fable
That was the magic that I felt that night
When his soft curls slid through my fingertips
A fleeting moment that slips out of sight
And still my thoughts they linger on his lips
There is not much more to tell of this tale
For in eachother's embrace, we but slept
To forget his lips, I gladly fail
The memory of his smell I have kept
Yet, it could have been nothing that special
It could have been really all just superficial
You sound like someone who’s heard too many “life’s not fairs”
From someone who should have at least shared in your cares
Even if unable to produce a single one of those empathetic stares
They could have managed a few sympathetic there theres
Funny how we all grow into our mom and dad
Being one or both in moments that are good or bad
So, bitterly we shoot our love when we feel mad
Then like children run away rather than face their sad
It’s not a competition to decide whose life most stinks
Though this one feels it is best only when he drinks
Otherwise, he can’t stop thinking of those fucking finks
So, he drinks until he blinks the first of forty winks
But sometimes forty winks will turn into a hundred
The days easily lost but not to the pounding in his head
The days easily lost to this, his unshakeable dread
Dread that every day he’ll go on wishing he was dead