December 19, 2001

   I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do, yet you’re not satisfied. Just give me another day, I’ll get more money. Please leave my family out of this. I’ll fix this, it’ll be like it never even happened. What more do you want from me?

Sincerely,

Leah

December 23, 2001

    You haven’t done everything I’ve asked you to do, and you know it. Actions always come with consequences, consequences you’ll have to pay. Meet me tomorrow, the park, midnight. No questions. No delays. Don’t be late.

Remember, the best friends tell the best lies,

~T

December 24, 2001

    I’ll be there.

Sincerely,

Leah

As I make my way towards Mellow Grove Park, a wave of anxiety drowns me, filling my lungs with panic and terror. Uncertainty suffocates me, my breaths come in fast and short. It’s been going on for months, these mysterious letters. Someone is blackmailing me.

The first time I didn’t deliver the money, I paid the price. My little brother, Jake, came home beaten to a pulp. His skin was painted with ugly black bruises, his face streaked with hideous scratches and cuts. When we took him to the hospital, they had patched up the cuts, along with one broken rib, and two cracked, a fractured ankle and minor concussion. “Who did this to you?” I had asked him. “He had a ski-mask on. He said to tell you- this is what happens when you don’t follow orders.” Then my little Jake drifted off to sleep, a worried expression stayed on his face.

I never disobeyed the letters again.

I’m about a block away from the park, I can see it’s fresh green grass and scattered trees. The water from the fountain is the only sound, it splashes as it falls into the deep pool of liquid. This fountain used to be a symbol of hope for me, I used to toss pennies or quarters into the water and watch them sink as I made a wish for a pony or candy. Now it just makes me feel empty, ever since I found the first letter there.

I tip-toe towards the edge of the fountain, the grass squishes beneath my feet, fresh with rain. A twig snaps in the distance. I whirl my head around, my eyes darting, searching for the source. But I find nothing.

To soon, I let myself relax. A monotone, robotic voice from behind me echoes through the park, “Welcome.”

I gasp and turn around, my heart beating faster, my eyes wild. A dark silhouette stands on the other side of the fountain.  “Welcome, I said.” the voice repeats, a little more forcefully.

“What do you want from me?” I say, letting my thoughts spill out. “I’ve done everything. Please, leave me be already.”

“Whoa there, someone’s a little excited, huh?” the figure folds his hands behind his back, then casually approaches me, “I disagree, you haven’t done everything I’ve wanted, now have you?”

Then the figure is standing in front of me, dressed in all black, a ski mask concealing his face, but his eyes. His eyes are a deep blue, piercing me, staring into my soul. He raises a hand and roughly grips my chin and says in that same robotic voice, “You haven’t told me your secret, Leah.”

“Let me go,” my voice comes out, barely above a whisper. When he doesn’t, I say in a fiercer, stronger tone, “Let me go.”

His eyes crease a little, he’s smiling. “I don’t think so.” his voice penetrates my own. Then in a quick, fluid motion, he throws me against the nearest tree, my back arching when I come in contact with the rough bark.

I crumple to the floor and draw my knees to my chest. It takes everything in me not to scream from the pain. I squeeze my eyes shut, and let the pain dull a little. When I open them, I see him standing over me, arms folded.

“Tell me your secret, Leah, and this all stops.” the monotone voice says, trapping me. I realize there’s no way out, no escape. I’ll have to confess, but I wait it out.

“No.” I manage to say.

The figure tsk-tsks. “Wrong answer.” then he shoves his knee into my side, pain erupts like a volcano, quick and unexpected. Black dots dance across the edge of my vision.

And in this short moment of blindness, my problem is fixed, just like that.

A scream.

Grunts and thuds.

A sharp smack.

Then. . . “Leah! Are you alright?” the voice is familiar, I know this voice. I hear it everyday.

My eyes flutter open, a blurry face hovers above me. When it focuses, I identify who it is, Tamara.

I let tears fall down my cheeks, first they’re slow, then they rain down. My body racks with sobs, I fall against Tamara, who holds me tight.

“Shhh. . . You’re alright now. I got him.” she says in a gentle voice. Once my sobs die down, I straighten up to face Tamara.

“How did you find me?” I ask, out of breath.

“I was taking a walk, I saw you fly against a tree. . .” she trailed off.

But something is off. I look down at Tamara’s clothes. They’re black. She never wears black, only bright, happy colors. And why would she take a walk at 12:00 in the morning? I keep my thoughts to myself.

I had brought a kitchen knife. . . in case anything went south. I slowly move my hand to my side, pretending to groan in pain.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, watching me lower my hand.

“A little banged up is all.” I say, struggling to keep my voice level.

“Whatcha got there, Leah?’ she asks, eyeing the knife handle in my belt.

“Nothing.” I say too quickly, my mistake.

In a sudden rush of adrenaline I snatch the knife from my pocket, Tamara grabs a gun from under her loose black shirt. I jump to my feet, holding the knife in a defensive-like stance.

“I wouldn’t even think about it.” Tamara spits out, her voice bitter and hollow. She holds the gun out in front of her, aiming for my chest, which wouldn’t kill me right away if she pulled the trigger. I wince. She wants me to suffer. To die slowly and in pain.

I back up a little. “Don’t move!” she shouts, cocking the gun, getting it ready to fire.

I freeze. “I don’t understand.” I choke out.

She laughs dryly, a smile plastered on her face. “Don’t place dumb! You’re the valedictorian, piece it together,” she snaps.

I let my focus wander for a moment, though I still keep my eyes trained on the gun.

What could I have done to tick her off? Understatement, make her go psychotic. But asking why is selfish of me, I know exactly why she’s pissed.

Jose Martinez.

She had the biggest crush on him. And he didn’t like her . . . he liked me. Tamara had caught us kissing at one of her parties, which of course she flipped out about, cried hysterically all night, got herself drunk, then her parents came home early from a weekend trip. You can only imagine how that ended.

“Oh.” Is all I can manage.

“That’s it? ‘Oh’. You ruined my life, Leah! I’m not getting accepted to any colleges! I was expelled from school! And you stole a guy from me!” she screams.

It’s such a silly thing to get upset over. A guy. And it was practically her fault for drinking under age, something I would never do.

“Tamara-” I begin.

“Don’t ‘Tamara’ me!” she says, swinging the gun at me. I flinch.

But something catches my eye. Behind Tamara are lights, bright blue and red, flashing like a lighthouse. My eyes grow wide, I suppress a smile.

“What’s so great, huh?” Tamara says, oblivious.

I have to keep her occupied until the police reach us. I struggle for words, trying to remember anything I learned from that trip to a police station. No I wasn’t arrested. I’m going to college to be a police officer, I went to shadow my cousin, who’s the sheriff of his town’s police department. He had said something about talking to a killer who’s pointing a gun at you.

That’s funny, I called my best friend a killer. Funny how life can just switch everything you’ve known right behind your back, like a strike of lightning.

Hit them with a memory if you can. Make them feel guilty, kill them with kindness.  My cousin had said.

“I said, WHAT”S SO GREAT?” Tamara screams, taking a step towards me.

“Well, if I’m going to die now, I was just thinking about some memories of us, to ease the pain. Remember when you’re mom died? And I went over to your house. You opened the door crying, and hugged me. We said we would always be there for each other, no matter what. I guess that means death too, huh?” I say, smiling weakly.

A few tears escape from Tamara’s eyes, her lip quivering. “Stop it! I know what you're doing. Stop it . . .” she says, a sob escaping her mouth. She bites her lip.

The police have parked on the other side of the road, behind the fountain. A few officer’s exit the vehicles with surprising silence.

I’m staring too long, Tamara turns around, she gasps. “No!” She yells. Turning back to me, “You’re right. Until death,” she looks at me with this sad expression, like she didn’t come here to just kill me. “You were a great friend, you know. Tell my dad I’ll miss him. And I’m sorry I disappointed him, okay?” she asks, her voice quiet, but oddly . . . relieved.

“Put the gun down!” a police officer shouts, approaching Tamara cautiously.

Tamara pulls the trigger suddenly, the bullet ripping through my body, but  by some chance, I’m still standing, long enough for the real pain to hit me.

Tamara sighs, then lifts the gun to her head, whispering a soft goodbye. “TAMARA DON-,”

A thunderclap, then the sound of a body hitting the ground. I hear shouting, a hand grabbing my shoulder. “No! TAMARA!” I wail, “Why? Please, no!”

I shrug the hand from my shoulder, and collapse next to Tamara’s body. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, cradling her bloody, broken head. I smooth her hair. “It’s ok. It’s ok.” I whisper. “Don’t leave me.”

Her eyes, like pale moons, are still open, dead and unseeing. I close them. Then I take off my hoodie, and drape it over the top of her body. I tremble, wailing, bawling, crying.

My best friend is dead. My sister is dead. Because of some stupid thing that we could have easily forgiven each other for.

I feel the hand on my shoulder again. “Miss? Are you alright? You’re bleeding, please we need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible.”

“She’s dead,” I say, looking up to the officer, a young handsome guy I would’ve noticed more if it weren’t for my situation, “Aren’t you going to do anything?” I say bitterly.

“We’ll remove the body from the premises as soon as you’re taken care of.”

I nod, then let him escort me to an ambulance.

TWO MONTHS LATER

I brush my fingers over my scar, a mark that will always remind me of that day, when my world shattered.

The bullet penetrated my left liver. After getting a transplant and recovering, I’m finally being released today.

“Your parents are here to pick you up, Leah.” My nurse says, peeking into my room. I don’t really acknowledge her, I only stare out the window.

When my parents arrive, they’re happy and excited that I’m going home, but how can I be? After everything?

As we’re passing the cemetery, I tell my dad to pull over. I jump out of the car. My hospital let me attend Tamara’s funeral before the transplant, so I know where her grave is.

I pass a rose bush, where I pick one that’s still blooming, pricking my hand on the thorns, blood dripping all over the stem.

But I don’t care, I keep going.

When I reach her grave, a few tears fall onto her headstone, along with drops of my blood. I set the rose down on the stone, red smearing the white marble.

“Goodbye, Tamara.” I whisper. I blow a kiss to her grave. I begin to walk away, but turn to look at the grave one last time.

The rose I put on is fully bloomed now, bright and warm and full of the life Tamara should’ve lived.

I breathe in the wind, looking up to the sky, where I swear a cloud is shaped like a girl’s familiar face.

Goodbye.