Window View
Her name was Tegan. Tegan Luck, the girl who forever changed my life. I’m still deciding if it was in a positive or negative way. It all started at the beginning of my sophomore year of high school.

I glared out the window at six in the morning at the tall lean figure strolling down the sidewalk. The light spring breeze made the leaves on the trees dance in the wind as she sauntered away. It had become a daily routine ever since the beginning of sophomore year when a new girl moved into the apartment next door to me. She was an astonishingly beautiful blonde; one of those girls that you could not help but want to punch every time you saw them because they were so perfect. I guess it’s fair to say that my envy of her had driven my animosity towards her. It became a weird obsession to try to find out everything about her and hoping to find at least one flaw. I continued to peer out the window until I saw her figure disappear around the corner. I always wondered why she left so early in the morning to get to school. I assumed she was probably doing extra work to increase her already exceptional grades.

Each day she carried a baseball bat in her hand. I assumed she played softball and probably excelled at it like she did at most things. The only strange part about it was that she had been carrying that metal baseball bat since the first day of school, which always tugged at my curiosity as to why she would carry the bat to school during the harsh winters when softball season was evidently in the spring. I convinced myself she was most likely practicing for the season to come.

I got dressed for school, piled my dull brown hair on my head in a messy bun and lingered in front of the small mirror mounted on the wall of my tiny room. I examined my narrow, pale face and mentally gave my daily self-criticisms. My nose was slightly too long, my two front teeth slightly too big, and my eyes slightly too far apart. When I looked in the mirror I could not help but immediately compare myself to Tegan. How could anyone feel pretty next to her? I sighed and began my walk in the beautiful May day to school. The warm breeze tickled my skin making a smile spread along my face. Seeing the various colors of flowers planted along the edges of the sidewalk always put me in a brighter mood.
School was just like any other place for me, a place where I became invisible, not really involved in anything. I was that girl who kept to herself and never talked in class, or to anyone really. I did not know anything about anyone, and I liked it like that. I was the definition of anti-social. I was never interested in anyone, as friends or romantically, but the day Tegan moved next door to me I became very interested in her. Not romantically, but in a weird way that I felt drawn into wanting to know more about her. It was mainly because everything about her and her life was perfect, and I was curious to find out how she ended up with that desirable life.

I saw Tegan a total of two times that day. Her hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun, and she wore a t-shirt and faded jeans. I debated if I should talk to her; maybe even try to become her friend. I shook the thought out of my head, telling myself that people like her would not associate with people like me. After school when I was back at my house doing homework I saw her walking home. She was only coming home about ten minutes later then I had. This confused me because I thought she would have to stay after school for softball practice, since it was currently in season, but I pushed the thought aside. Again, she had that stupid baseball bat in her hand. Later that night, right as I climbed into bed, a loud knock came from outside. I ignored it, shoving my pillow over my head. The knocks sounded again, more persistently this time. Annoyed, I threw the covers off of myself and stalked over to the window. The obnoxious banging was coming from a guy who was sedulously knocking on the Luck’s door. He was tall with dark brown intentionally messy hair and appeared to look a few years older than me. It was the first time I had ever seen him before, but I knew he was definitely Tegan’s boyfriend. Why else would he be there? I was debating whether he was drunk or not. It was hard to tell. Of course Tegan could not bother to open the door. She probably felt superior to him; she did have that type of personality. She did not know how lucky she was to even have had a boyfriend. I wished I had a boyfriend that would visit me. I eventually climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep muttering to myself about how much more I now disrespected Tegan.

The next morning I woke up at five forty-five like usual, and went to the bathroom. As I walked back into my room I was surprised to see, through my window, Tegan already on her way to school. I noticed that she had a little more hustle in her step this morning. She looked anxious and scared, her baseball bat swinging wildly in her hand. Her hair hung loosely down her back in messy tangles. She looked the other way as if she thought someone was coming after her. For a split second I wondered if something was wrong, but then decided that nothing could ever be wrong in the life of Tegan Luck. As she turned her head towards my house I noticed a bruise coming in around her left eye that I had not even noticed. I bet she got it practicing softball. I’m sure she was praised for it to. People probably would give her more attention then she already received and worship her for being tough in softball and all this load of crap.

The day went by fast; I sat through school, finished my homework and came home from school. I watched as Tegan arrived home from my window. She did not have her baseball bat in her hand; she must have forgotten it at school. I noticed the apprehensive way she walked down the sidewalk and her hesitantation in entering her apartment. Later that night the loud banging occurred again. I looked out the window and saw with no surprise the guy banging on her door. I could make out his face this time thanks to the yellow glow the light in front of the apartment gave off. He had a five o’clock shadow and a distressed expression on his face. His eyes looked dark and were shining widely. I could not help but notice that he was attractive. It really made me mad. She had a gorgeous boyfriend, yet she was too stuck up to give him the attention he deserved. My hatred grew for her a little more that night. I went to sleep promising myself that I would talk to her tomorrow and tell her to stop taking her perfect little life for granted.

I woke up that day not from my usual alarm clock at five forty-five, but the sounds of sirens and yelling from outside at five-thirty. I groggily stumbled out of bed to my window and saw police huddled around Tegan’s apartment door. My mom was standing outside as well, in her blue bathrobe and disheveled brown hair. The police were talking quickly to one another as they came in and out of the apartment. It was way too early in the morning for me to focus. I began to turn to walk downstairs in order to find out what was going on when blonde hair caught my eye out the window. I looked back out. What I saw changed my perspective of everything I ever did from there on out.

Tegan Luck, the beautiful, athletic, perfect in every single way Tegan Luck, was lying lifelessly on a stretcher. Her face was black and blue; her shirt was ripped open in multiple spots. She had huge gashes up and down her legs and arms. I stared out the window absolutely horrified. Following Tegan on a stretcher was a tall policeman carrying the baseball bat.

I later found out that Tegan lived with only her father, her alcoholic father who frequently abused her. Tegan therefore carried a baseball bat to school, kept it in the gym locker room and then carried it home to use in case he was drunk and trying to hurt her. She did not even play softball. She left early every morning to avoid her father before he woke up. The boy who came to her door, who I stupidly convinced myself was her boyfriend, had raped her before, making her live in constant fear even when she was not with her father. She died because that day on her way home she did not have her baseball bat and her father was drunk, leaving her defenseless against his harsh blows.

I realized how stupid I had been. Making up a life for someone just by looking out a stupid window. I had nightmares for weeks. How did I not realize something was wrong? Why did I always suspect everything was perfect for her when really everything was awful? It made me realize how much seeing can be deceiving. I should have stepped in; I should have helped. I became overwhelmed with guilt for days; I could barely leave the house.

Ten years later and I still blame myself for what happened. I never assume anything about anyone ever, scared that my assumptions could cause another false judgment or worse, a life to be taken. I never judged another person by how perfect his life seemed. Everything is not always as it seems, a lesson I learned the hard way. I am still ashamed that I judged Tegan so cruelly. I thought everything she did was to better herself. I assumed she was living this envious life, when in reality she was worse off than I was. I constantly would try to discredit her in my head over and over again with lame excuses that were not even true. I wondered how different everything could have been if I had reached out to her and tried to befriend her. I agonize over the thought at night that if I had just said one thing to her, one thing that could have let her open up to me, everything could have been different, a life spared. I boarded up the window in my room. Never again would I look out of it and see Tegan Luck walking down the sidewalk, baseball bat in hand.