There’s nothing worse than telling a story you can’t bear to tell. Only to worsen as you’re asked to repeat the story over and over while people you’ve never seen before ask you questions… ask you things you’ve never said aloud before.

I know what that’s like now. I know what I have in me to do. I remember the pain. I remember your face. I can go back there in seconds. It’s fourteen years not thirteen as I’d thought. Before I even knew what she wanted, I was devasted when you mother called. When she said what she had to say I …I have no words to describe. I did what she and the others asked. I picked out their faces in a book. The faces were never that clear in my memories. Focus has been restored. I wonder if you had something to do with this. They said one of them is there with you now. Killed in some easy way and escaping real punishment. The other one is here in my world to be dealt with. I am struggling with this in new ways. I have lived all these years knowing there would never be an end but now it seems that there will actually be one. It could be one of many but there is an end for sure.

Your mother is the same. She misses you and hurts me with her anger. Maybe she blames me for us being there that night. Maybe she will change now that there is someone there to accept the blame. I know what you’d tell her but I can’t be like you. I never had your strength of conviction.

Wish you were here. The score is “LOVE-15” not “15 my love”.

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