Shot Up

Adalina

As I hear the screams, feel the heat, taste the metallic blood in my mouth, smell the perspiration of so many bodies fallen on the floor, see Matthew standing above me ready to shoot... I remember. I remember how close Matthew and I had been when we were younger. How our mothers were close, how we were born in the same hospital, how we grew up together. Then, after all of the good comes flooding back, all of the bad crashes down on me. I remember the first day of sixth grade, where your status began to matter. I remember teasing Matthew along with everyone else, prodding and poking at him until he became distant. Hurting him until he no longer talked to me; no longer cared for me. I remember the looks on his face after every time I cause him pain. the looks of betrayal and anger that morphed into fear and sadness. I remember how his eyes had a fire in them as they swept over Dalton and I standing together; Dalton's hand on my waist. I remember that Matthew is the only person who really knows me.

He realizes how hard I try to fake everything; trying to stay on the tippity-top. He knows that I don't like the person I am; I don't like cheerleading, I hate the noise of late-night football games; I don't have any desire to tan on the beach with my "best friend" Livvie.

Honestly, and I know this is a bit of a cliche, my whole life is a lie. I don't like the people that I hang out with. Yeah, my boyfriend might be the head of the football and basketball teams, my best friend might be the second best cheerleader on the squad, with me ranking as number one, but everything is so fake. Dalton doesn't want to have meanignful conversations with me; Livvie doesn't want to talk about the hard things that everyone faces in life. The best friend that I ever had was Matthew and he knows it. When I was with Matthew, I was myself. I was fun and carefree and wore no mask. When I'm with Livvie and Dalton, I can't be myself. I have to build a facade that never crumbles. I know that I deserve what Matthew came to our school to do. I know it with every ounce of my being. Just like I know that he is the only person that I have truly loved. Not even my parents remember, or care to think about, the real me.

Matthew, still standing above me holding a gun, is the last person who deserves the life he got. I understand this with every ounce of my being. That's why, as Matthew's finger twitches against the trigger, I fade away into resignation and I whisper, "Okay."

Matthew

I see the fear that I once felt, reflect back at me from Adalina's eyes. I know that I have hurt so many people this afternoon; I've seen the bodies and I've felt the pain. All of those people were just unfortunate though. I never meant to harm anyone that I didn't have to. I only wanted Addy to realize all that she had put me through. I watch her face that I have memorized so faithfully. The thin arch of her dark eyebrows, right above her emerald-green eyes. Her long black hair tangled and matted on the floor, caked with blood and the dirt from the school hallways. I watch as she thinks about something; maybe remembering all of the times she hurt me. All the times that I no longer wanted to live because of how bad she made me feel. I know that these feelings of betrayal and anger that I've held onto for so long should be what's fueling my actions but it's not. As I stand above her body, breathing heavily, all I think about is the good.

I remember how one day we went to pick strawberries together, when we were about three years old, and she asked, "Will it hurt the leaves if we take away their babies?" I remember how we used to laugh as we jumped in puddles, how we would sing every word of the "rain, rain, go away" song together. I remember how, when learning to ride our bikes, we fell and both got scraped up on our knees and elbows. We called those blemishes 'battle scars'. I think about how happy I was when I was with her before sixth grade; about how she's the only person who really understood me.

I look down at her again, feel her give up, and I hear her whisper, "Okay." At that moment, I know that I can't hurt her. Despite the pain she caused me. Despite all of the bad memories, I still have the good ones. She was the only person that I have ever loved with my whole heart. She is my solid foundation when everything is crumbling. Even if she is the reason that I don't smile some days, she is still the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing on my mind when I fall asleep. I honestly feel so bad for her; living a fake life. I know that she's miserable keeping up the constant invention that she worked so hard to make these past seven years. I know that she deserves so much better; she deserves to be happy. She deserves the chance to smile real smiles. To watch the sunset, instead of sweating on a field, in a tight uniform. To be loved by someone who really wants her like I do, not just someone who is with her for the popularity. I want her to have a friend who she tells every secret to. A friend that she connects with in the way that her and I used to. I know that I can't hurt her and this life that she's living is the source of her angst and torment. That's why, with tears streaming down my face, I point the gun at her head and watch her close her eyes. I know that she hates the life she lives so I take that burden away from her. I shoot her and see the life leave her body. I know that this is what she wanted by the soft whisper of that two-syllable word. I know that we both deserved so much better. We deserved to live a life that we desire, but we can't have that one luxury. That's why I decide to place the gun at my own head and pull the trigger once more.