I was naïve then. Worried about drugs, parties, and him. None of that really matters now.

It’s all worthless since I’m dead. Looking back on it now, the signs were always there, I just chose to ignore them. Everyone around me saw it, but I was blind. Not anymore. It’s really kind of clear now.

I was in love with my killer. I met him at school. He was considered to be the outgoing rebel, and that’s what initially attracted me, but as we started seeing each other outside of school, he became more than that. He was sweet and a true gentleman. He had a way of luring me in. I remember the first time we kissed, it was unlike anything else. I remember my heart was racing as we leaned in, our lips meeting each other’s. I remember his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that will forever burn into my mind. I could never directly look into that gaze because when our eyes met, I felt a certain nakedness. Like he could peer into my entirety with those eyes. It didn’t take long for me to be fully wrapped up in him and everything he introduced me to.

Maybe that’s why I was blinded by reality that day in his room. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me in close. His whispers threw chills down my spine. He asked me to join him in the one thing he loved other than me, the one thing that brought him to a new level. I remember that white powder, and how quickly its white chalky lines disappeared. Into my mind, into my love. It was unexplainable, untouchable. It was him, I had him to thank for this new feeling. And before long he kept bringing this feeling back; it started with the chalky lines that disappeared under our noses and then the euphoria that had us enveloped in each other for hours.

He showed me a whole new world, one that did not exist in my previous cookie cutter life. This life was a fast trip away from reality, literally. I now spent my weekends with acid, coke, ecstasy, and him. From one rave to the next, weekends disappeared under my feet. The drugs and parties became hazy, but him, he remained perfectly clear.

My friends came to me, worried since they barely saw me around anymore, worried that he was taking over my life. I refused to listen to their complaints, they were just jealous. Soon after my family joined my friends, repeatedly asking what was wrong with me lately. Nothing was wrong, I was in love. In love with the high. In love with the lifestyle. In love with him. In love with the new me. The me he called beautiful. The me that walked around, either buzzed on my high or coming down looking to get more. I was practically already dead. Dead to my friends. Dead to my family. Dead to myself.

I started to notice the changes too, but I could never question the new me. He got very defensive saying I was perfectly fine. I think that’s where I went wrong. My mind was so blurry that I could not see how he had turned me into the perfect victim. I never questioned his love for me. Not even when bruises started showing up on my arms and stomach. He only hit me because he loved me. It was my fault. I deserved it. He made me hate myself because I wasn’t good enough for him. I couldn’t stand it. So, I did the only thing that seemed right. I set him free of his burden. Me.

I had to do it. It was my favorite spot. A beautiful cliff that overlooked the beach. Nothing but miles of rocks below the cliff’s edge. That’s where I belonged. With the rocks. Up there on that edge, it all seemed perfect. The brisk wind was thrown at my face as I stood against the current. I started to zone out, and the seagulls and waves became distant as the edge disappeared below my feet.
I may have not seen what he had turned me into. I may never be able to take those two years of my life back. I may never be able to apologize to my family for what happened. I may never be able to take it all back. But I was able to liberate myself. Free at last. Free at last.