He hasn't been the same. Not since Maureen died.
Perched on the windowsill, I watched my best friend sit on the bench across from the loft and cry his beady little eyes out. Every single night since. I didn't always watch him, but I could tell from the way he'd walk in with his eyes all puffy and red that he had been crying.
He loved that girl, he really did. When they had gotten back together, I'd never seen the boy so happy. The smile stayed on his face and never left.
Never left until she did.
I still remember that night perfectly. We were heading to the lot, to see another one of Maureen's protests. This time, the police were there before us. After mass confusion, we finally pushed our way through the crowds toward the stage. I first began getting the notion things weren't right just by the people's faces. They all looked scared, unsure. The second sign was the trail of dark red blood, spattered on the floor. I figured it was just someone got hit with a bottle, like last time. I couldn't have been more wrong.
There was Maureen, lying on the ground, surrounded by EMS workers. I can still see her now, perfectly in my mind. The chestnut curls I used to twirl were sprawled out, almost blending in with the crimson leaking from that pretty head of hers as well as her full pink lips. Her emerald eyes were closed tightly. At that point, I would've already dismissed her as dead, however I could see her hand flinching and her chest rising and falling jaggedly.
Mark fell to his knees beside her, his eyes already leaking waterfalls. The rest of us stayed frozen and I remember myself holding Mimi. He was shaking her, looking like he just didn't know what hit him. Maureen's eyes opened slightly, her hand somehow finding it's way to his arm. Maureen was dying, and she knew it. I don't know what was going on in her head, or if she could even really think, but she looked up at Mark with those sparkling green eyes and whispered a faint, "I love you." before she closed her eyes for the last and final time.
The police must've recognized us, because soon, there was no one else in the room except us and her. Well, that's what it felt like. It was a complete out of body experience, and the only thing I could really see was that horrible puddle of blood. I just didn't know what to do. I was frozen really, just watching her body gently become lifeless. It was like ... I can't explain it, but I never want to see something that tragically beautiful ever again.
It took a few weeks to find the bastard that put the bullet in her chest. Joanne worked hard on that case and eventually put him in jail. I guess she figured that was enough, because the day after Maureen's funeral, she flew the coop. Never saw her again. I understand her point though. It's just her way of coping, I guess.
If Joanne's way of coping really was to ditch us all, then Mark's was to cry his little face off. The first few days he was completely distraught. After that, he started the odd ritual of bawling on the sidewalk. I'm not sure why, but I think that's where they met.
People out there think he's crazy. And their right. Mark was lonely before Maureen came into his life. He really loved her, devoting everything to the girl who always slept around. It didn't break his heart, for some odd reason. It kept him going. She kept him going. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.
Or should I say, then with a BANG, she was gone.
Authors Note: I wrote this unbelievably quick. I'm not sure why, but somehow Roger's voice like ... flows through me. Anyway, please review if you took the time to read. They seriously mean a lot to me, and I'm not just saying that. Thank you for reading this. I appreciate that.
