If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone.

I tell myself that repeatedly as I glance down at him. Except, this isn’t the man I once knew, the man I so badly yearned for, this is an empty shell of what he once was. His skin, cold and bitter, his eyes hollow, without the light that guided me, his lips slightly parted, blood staining the floor beneath him. I let out a panicked laugh as what I had done just set in, I murdered the love of my life. My laughter turns into hysterical crying as what I just did begins to process in this head of mine. I face the gun to my skull, we can still be together. I can’t navigate this miserable world without you.

Bam.

“Don’t you think we’re too young for marriage?” He asked. “Not at all” I replied. “We’re in our prime aren’t we?” The leather couch in my parents basement made an awful noise when he got up and dusted his pants.

“Right.” He stared at his phone. He got down on one knee.

This was it. The moment he said he wanted me and I could wrap my arms around him. He’d say he didn’t care who I was, he just wanted me-

He tied his shoe. I dug my nails into my palms as I watched. Of course not.

“What’s with the questions about marriage?” I decided to ask, my voice unwavering. He grabbed a beer from the mini fridge in the corner of the hot room.

“I got Bianca pregnant. Her folks want us to get married.”

My earth shattered. His girlfriend was pregnant. Of course.

I stared at him. “How are you sure it’s yours?” I blurted out. He glared at me from the corner of his eyes. “I’m not going to accuse my girlfriend of cheating.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until thick metallic crimson liquid was flowing down my throat. I was tired of waiting.

“What about us?” I asked, softer.

He stared at me in bewilderment. “What about us?” He echoed right after me. I licked my dry lips.

“I though-“ I paused. I had to think carefully. “I like you, Ethan” I finished.

He didn’t dare reply instantly. He chugged his beer as if he were a frat brother, as if he even went to college. “I didn’t know that.”

We stared at each other. “I didn’t know you were that dense” I chuckle awkwardly. He was not laughing. “I didn’t think-“

He chose his next words carefully.

“Carl, I’m not gay. I didn’t know you were.”

My mouth went dry.

“I didn’t know you felt like that.”

He stared at me. “Carl I love Bianca. I’m going to marry her.”

“Ethan- I didn’t-“

He cut me off. “I’m going to Bianca’s. Don’t- don’t call me” he stuttered. I watched him turn. The end of our six year friendship. The end of everything I’ve worked for.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I threw his beer bottle at his head. He knocked cold on the tile floor. Blood seeped from the back of his short brown hair. He was unconscious. I flipped him onto his side.

He seemed peaceful. Blood ran from his head into his eye.

God, what did I do?

The bottle laid in little glass shards at his feet. A particularly large one caught my eye.

Bianca wasn’t in the afterlife. She couldn’t separate us then. He couldn’t cheat on me with her.

I grabbed it. The sharp sides cut my palm but I couldn’t feel the pain. Before I could change my mind, I stabbed the shard into him. I watched over him until he stopped breathing.

I made sure he didn’t stir, didn’t feel the pain. When his chest stopped rising and he felt cool to the touch, I took the same shard and ended myself on top of him. His beautiful body.

If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anybody.

Who would’ve thought someone as young as I am could fall in love. That’s right, fall in love. Since my freshman year of Highschool I’d see him, Tyler. Tall and handsome, dark hair, brown eyes, great style, what more could I ask for. Me being the young insecure girl I was, I couldn’t talk to him. We didn’t have any classes togehter which made passing period my favroite part of the day. I’d always look forward to seeing him, In hopes he felt the same way too. Each day after the third period we would walk past each other and hold the same intense eye contact. It was one day when he had stopped me and told me he liked my outfit. Oh the butterflies they flew through my stomach. Since then, we were unsepertable. The sparks that I felt between us were unmatchable. Day trips to the beach, concerts, late nigth drives together, what we were doing didn’t matter to me I just wanted to be by his side. He was my person. Tyler and I dated for a year and three months, time flew. I wish I could say we were still together but that’s not the case. Something in my heart was telling me he was holding me back. Holding me back from my dreams and what I really desired in life. But I held on…I had an attachment and I couldn’t let go. That was until he had broke my heart. I was enjoying a family trip in Mexico, feet in the sand, swimming in the ocean, and eating the best food. Meanwhile, Tyler had other plans. A lake trip with his friends, or at least I thought it was just his friends. We always had a very open relationship, secrets weren’t kept and we always tried our best to understand one another, or so I thought. A video was sent to me by a mutual friend, and of course I opened it. I couldn’t believe it, there goes Tyler cheating on me. I felt sick to my stomach watching him make out with another girl. The flight back home from Mexico was miserable. Sitting in-between my parents trying to act like nothing is happening, holding the tears from dripping down my cheeks. It felt like my life was ending. Later that night as my flight had landed, he called me. I picked up, he was crying so hard he couldn’t even breathe. I asked “What were you thinking?”, “I hate myself” he responded. That was our last conversation. I remember shortly after we brokeup I had a heartfelt talk with my Mother. “You didn’t do anything wrong honey, you are perfect the way you are. He messed up the best thing he ever had, and now he has to live with that regret.” She said. I can confidently say Tyler and I were in love, deeply in love. But from that moment on i always thought, If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone.

I was young. That’s all it was I think. I wasn’t ill or mentally out of it or just simply weird. I was young and when you’re young, things feel intense. I’m sure you all remember that intense feeling of anger and jealousy you felt as a kid, seeing your sibling getting ice cream while you didn’t. I’m sure you all remember that intense sense of injustice that you felt was done to you in that moment. ‘But you already had pudding dear, your brother saved it for later. For now’. Maybe, if you were similar to me as a kid you would scream and shout and scold about how unfair this all was. ‘If he gets ice cream, I deserve some too!’ I was dramatic, yes I’ll admit that, but I wasn’t sick. I was just a kid. Honestly, looking back at that moment during the years I have questioned whether I was normal or not. Sometimes I couldn’t recall the event without feeling an intense amount of embarrassment and other times all I felt was sorry for little me. Just as kids change into preteens and teens and eventually into adults, memory’s do so too. Now, 20 years after that… interesting moment, I feel peace. It’s bad. I know it’s bad. But it’s easier now to believe it when I tell myself that I was just a kid when it happened and that that was all that it was. I was just a kid. A child. Someone too young to understand reality. Someone too young to understand the consequences of her actions. Especially such far reaching actions. I don’t think I ever meant to actually do it. Yes, I had thought about it. Yes, I wrote about it in my little six year old handwriting and my pink diary with a pony on the cover. But that was all still innocent, though I believe some people might already disagree with me there. They’re saying six year olds shouldn’t even think about those things. But I’d like to remind them that all kids are weird and random. After the no phase and the why phase you get a weird phase somewhere along the line. If you combine that weird phase with the intense all or nothing emotions of a child and you get the perfect recipe for such a tragedy to happen. I don’t remember ever making the plan either. Maybe if I find that pink diary with the pony and can decipher my own handwriting, I can read if I actually thoroughly planned my act or if it was just a kind of in the moment thing. A moment filled with that intense childlike rage. Honestly that’s all I remember, that anger, that rage. When I think about it now, it was the last drop. The drop that started the flood. The spark that ignited the fire. The maddening smile that I knew somehow was always followed by one of his so called pranks. They were never funny. And yet, as far as a six could experience love, I loved them. I loved him. So so much. Just like children feel anger and rage deeply, they feel love deeply as well. Or at least I did. And that hurt. I remember always being the joke. The one people laugh at and not laugh with. I didn’t know that then, but if I did maybe I wouldn’t have acted the way I did. Maybe I wouldn’t be where I am today. If I understood that my classmates were children too, incapable of grasping the bigger emotions of life too, I wouldn’t have taken it so personally. If I understood that they were dramatic too… I don’t know. I was just a child. Now, being an adult and having access to all the words for every emotion I can possibly experience, it’s all so much easier. I can’t get back to my way of thinking back then. I can only recall what I did and all that followed. I can only read what I wrote in my six year old handwriting in my pink diary with a pony on the cover: ‘if he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone’.

If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone. I walked up to his door and glanced at the time on my phone, 11:37 at night. I knocked on the door three times and waited with a smile on my face for him to open the door. When he finally awoke and came downstairs he opened the door and there was shock on his face, “Emily? What are you doing here? We broke up, remember?” He tried to close the door but I grabbed the edge with my hand. “I just want to talk. I feel terrible about the way we left things. May I come in?” Even if he said no I was already inside. The knife was cold against my thigh, it was concealed within my skirt.

I didn’t bother sitting down, after all I had important things to do. He was right infront of my and looked down. “My wife is upstairs, you need to go soon. Oh, there she is.” A women stepped down the last step and appeared to be pregnant. “Honey who is this?” She smiled at me slightly but looked confused. I walked over and reached under my skirt and took out the knife. “Just an old friend.” I sliced her throat and smiled at her as she collapsed.

“Now about that talk.” I walked over to Evan and set the knife on the coffee table. “You’re a psychopath!” He tried to run but I grasped his arm and pulled him closer. “I said I would only be a few minutes and I’m not a liar.” I picked up the knife. He looked at me with fear in his eyes like prey being captured by the predator. I raised up the knife and sliced. He fell with a sickening thud and went quiet.

I smiled down at him and grabbed the flask I had hidden in my pocket. I untwisted the lid and drank the whole thing. It was acid. My insides disintegrated as the acid made its way down my throat and into my stomach. I fell, and screamed in agony for at least ten minutes before the ground was a mess of melted skin, blood, and flesh.

When the police found my body, I still had a smile on my face just as I had that night.

“If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone” I opened my car door to my old civic and slid in. The drive from Washington to Nebraska was such a tiring drive, however ever since the letter arrived on my doorstep, the hunger to get revenge was more motivation than I needed. Driving past the familiar town sign plastered on the side of the road gave me such a anxious feeling. “Welcome to Pine ridge” Gosh it has been years since I was last here but it didn’t let me forget what happened years ago. It’s July fourth of 1982 and of course Pines is having their annual July fourth party in town square. My hands gripped the stirring wheel as I parked into a isolated space behind Donald’s Motor shop. I took a breathe and reconsidered what I was doing here. I caught my own eyes in the dash mirror, staring at myself, hearing my own voice screaming at me.

“Stop procrastinating, you want this don’t you? Do it. Get your revenge.”

The hesitation i first had slowly drowning away as I opened my car door. Stepping out I pulled my jacket up to cover my face, although I already had glasses on. I can’t believe I’m doing this, maybe moving to Washington was a good thing for me. I could’ve started over I could’ve got a decent job. I grabbed my steak knife I took from my rundown apartment back in Washington and stuffed it in my pocket. This will all be over soon then i can go live my life in peace. I grabbed two paper grocery bags filled with random stuff I bought from a dollar general. Looking over my shoulder I can see people gathering up in the square to watch the fireworks, this used to be my favorite thing back when I lived here, how I hate how he took that from me. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. My thoughts were abruptly irrupted when I walked straight into someone’s back. The paper bags fell right out of my hands, all of the items spilling out all over the cement sidewalk.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I’m such a clutz” I can see by his shape that he’s roughly a young adult.

Then he turned around. I was frozen. However Frozen with what feeling, well I could never tell you. Was it anger? Sadness? Jealousy? I met the man’s eyes. Their just like his.

“Oh no you’re alright uh-“ the man started as turned his head to look over his shoulder to see his friends had left him, he turned back humbly, bending down to help me “here let me help you, is there somewhere you were bringing these? Maybe I can help you carry them?

I gave a fake smile “oh yes” i shakily pointed my finger towards my car “my car is just over there, thank you young man for your help”

Jackson gave a closed lip smile “of course”

I turned around and started walking back towards my car in which he followed, I let him cut infront of me

“this one?” He asked nodding towards my old civic

“oh yes that one” I watched as he opened the car door and began to put the bags down.

Now. this my moment, do it! . Wrapping myself around him from behind i covered his mouth with a rag, he fought back his arms waving and thrashing, we were far enough from everyone that they wouldn’t hear his struggles. It took all the strength in my left arm to grab my knife from my pocket and jab it into his neck. It’s like his whole body when into shock, his arms lowered as he became a dead weight, blood was running down my hands and onto my arms as different vibrent colors filled the dark sky. I pushed him into the back of my car and slid back into the drivers seat before anyone could really focus on what I was doing. I did it, I thought, I won.

If she wasn't going to love me She wasn't going to love anyone. It's not a threat, it is an observation If all these years of "us" are nothing, like the rest There is no point in trying something different

She'll never ask about how day is going She'll never be here when you need her most And even if you try to speak your problems She'll brush it off, it's something off her course

Just let her be, let her drift away Don't call for her, don't beg for her to stay She is a fire set to burn your world And if you let her, she will keep her hold

I bought him flowers again. Brought them to his work. He told me he was too busy to see me, in a meeting or something like that, and wouldn’t come out to get them. So I left the at the counter with a nice enough receptionist. But when I left, I sensed that he was already out of that “meeting”. When he came home, I had to ask him if he liked the flowers. He said yes and didn’t even thank me. He didn’t bring them home, either. When I asked where they were he said on his desk. I doubt it.

Something has been off these past few weeks. He’s distant, unlike himself. We don’t cuddle like we used to and he has a new hobby, pickle ball, that he’s always practicing. He’s never invited me to come see him play, but he’s always leaving to go play.

My hands grip the steering wheel, turning bone white, as I wonder if he still loves me like he used to. When he used to bring me flowers, flowers which I still have in keepsake boxes, dried and kept as mementos. I park near his car and see him walking, bag slung over his shoulder, to a younger man leaning against a tree. A pickleball buddy? Could be … but then why is he holding flowers and smiling so largely?

I pulled the keys from the ignition and sighed, looking at the bag in the passenger seat. If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone.

Why did she have to let go of me. We said we’d be “together forever”. Sarah meant the world to me. Years of my life were spent with her, to me, she was my soul mate. She must’ve felt otherwise. Thats too bad— I saw a future with her. Now she won’t have one. If she wasn’t going to love me, she wasn’t going to love anyone.

“If he wasn’t gonna love me, he wasn’t gonna love anyone,” Anger growls like a wild fire.

“What!?” Fear stands.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Hope smiles and hides a sickly cough as she helps Fear sit back down.

Happiness is laying on her death bed, barely breathing, her eyes are closed, her hands folded nicely across her stomach.

“There is no explanation,” Anxiety jitters, standing and pacing. “I don’t know what to do! What do I do?!”

“LISTEN!” Anger roars, slamming her fists down. A vein pops and throbs in her forehead. “Listen.”

“Anger… we’ve lost Joy. Shy has been dead. Happiness is dying. Hope is sick… we need a game plan,” Fear says hurriedly.

“I’m not me. I’m not sad,” Sadness says solemnly, her eyes dry.

Pain is stronger than ever, covered in blood and bits of dried bone. Licking her fingers, she grins. “I’m doing just fine.”

A shadow appears in the doorway. The emotions jitter and stand, bowing to their host. Slowly, she enters.

“Q-Queen.” Anxiety squeaks and runs to hide, “We need your help. Your control over us is t-too powerful. You’re killing us.”

The figure steps forward, two foot long golden brown slight curls spill over her shoulders. The shadows cling to her, swirling around her body as if they feed on it. She stands in an oversized T-shirt with no pants or shoes. Her bare limbs shake. Her lips part, and slowly she whispers the words; “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know how. It’s too much, too hard, too strong. I’ve fought for so long.”

As the Queen falls to her knees, bloody and broken, her fight gone:

Anxiety falls silent, the pacing stops. Anger’s furious flame goes out. Sadness stays just as solemn. Happiness’ heart monitor quits. Hope goes dark; depression. Fear’s breathing slows… And Pain stops feeding.

The queen curls into a ball on the cold floor, tucking her legs in the shirt. Her eyes close slowly, one last shiver runs though her body before she stays still, the fight gone from her. Her skin pales more than usual, taking on a blue hue and her skin goes icy cold. Her emotions lay dead around her, curled up in their corners.

Slowly, the shadows each lay a hand over the Queen’s body, bowing their heads and waiting to diminish.

“I’m so sorry,” the Queen whispers.