Page 14 of Deviant

I opted for a different route and ensured she could never leave me.

That she would rot in this godforsaken place just like my bones will someday.

Buried six feet under in a cemetery behind Hollow’s Church, all my best friend can do now is lay in wait, watching my own life wither away.

Yeah.

With a friend like me, who needs fucking enemies?

Grief-stricken, I walk over to the middle of the bridge to our spot, going to my haunches to softly caress the small patch of steel where we scraped our names with one of Elias’s pocket knives.

Nora + Rowen = Best Friends 4 Ever

We were just ten years old when we decided to memorialize our friendship with this carving.

So naively innocent.

So fucking trusting and hopeful.

But even at that tender age, I knew hope was a silent killer—a deadly poison that could easily corrupt those most suggestive to it and bring its own special kind of cruel torment.

Nora always had an abundance of hope.

I, on the other hand, never did.

Hope was a luxury stolen from me very early on in my life. Even now, the scars of that trauma are still fresh enough to be cautious of such an optimistic, vain sentiment.

Maybe that’s the real reason why I did it.

Why I killed my best friend.

Because her hopescaredme.

Her willingness to battle through something so horrendous caused me more fear than anything I had ever experienced before in my lifetime, which is in itself problematic since I already had my fair share of heartache.

But now that I have no one to siphon that hope from, despair is all I’m left with.

That and my cowardice.

I’ve grown sick and tired of my spineless nature and weakness calling all the shots in my life.

It’s time I did something brave.

Something right.

Something just.

Without further hesitancy, I stand back up, allowing the cold wind to nip at my cheeks, and let myself believe that tonight is the night I’ll see my best friend’s face again.

“Nora,” I sob softly. “I’m sorry.Please… forgive me.”

My apology and remorse have become my own personal mantra.

I say the exact same words every night before forcing my legs to go over the bridge’s rail, stepping onto the ledge while encouragingly telling myself that all I need is to jump off this goddamned bridge to make things right.

A life for a life.

I stole hers.

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