Demons
"Everybody has inner demons to fight, Danny," I whisper.
He looks as if he understands, and I know he wants to, but I don't think he does. How could he know what its like to watch four of your closest friends murdered; shot once in the head as they pleaded for their lives. That is something that I try to forget everyday. I couldn't see their faces, but I could hear their tears; it was so evident in their voices that my heart broke. I could hear the guy shout, "Turn around and lie on your backs. Now!"
"Please don't hurt us," they cried. "Please…"
"Shut up!" I remember him shouting.
I opened the door just a fraction of an inch. The guy was waving his gun manically, pacing back and forth, while my friends lay there quietly, probably praying to god that this guy would change his mind, and that everything had been a bad dream. Our story is a nightmare that never goes away.
My dreams for the past ten years have been of me peeking out from inside the bathroom and watching the…BOOM…BOOM…BOOM…BOOM…as each of my friends grew limp and blood poured from underneath their bodies. I didn't think he would forget the washroom, so I stood on the toilet praying that he wouldn't open any of them and find me. Although sometimes I wish he had. For at least two years after they were murdered I lived in a trance.
I was not always the way I am now. For years after the death of my friends I was moody and withdrawn, quiet and sinister, wore black clothes and dyed my pale blonde hair black, went to therapy three times a week and was home-schooled. I didn't even have my first boyfriend until I was twenty-one years old. He was a sweet, young man who tried to understand my situation, but much like Danny now, he simply couldn't and we parted ways. Although some people thought that he was the one to break me from the gothic spell I was under, I can remember that day vividly now.
I sat beside the tall, imposing water fountain outside of the Bozeman courthouse. I watched the accused leave the courthouse from outside not being able to return inside after my testimony. I was watching him quite intently that I almost didn't catch the confident wink that he gave me. Did he get off scot-free? Was my testimony not good enough? Was he planning on killing my family when we are sleeping? I don't know what he was thinking, but I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't for the fact that I couldn't eat for days that I would have thrown up in the water fountain.
I wrapped my arms around my chest as the cameras turn to me as I watched him leave. I couldn't help it then, but I was almost always alone. I didn't let anyone in; not my family and certainly not my newfound boyfriend. I remember watching in horror as he was loaded into the back of a police car thinking that they were going to apologize to him for wasting his time and then drive him back home. I didn't realize that what they were actually doing was driving him to his high security jail cell where he would spend the rest of his days.
I have to admit that at twenty-seven years old, Danny is my closest friend at work. I recognize that he wants to be more than just friends, but the past has taught me to be cautious about whom to trust. Sometimes, just sometimes, people are only willing to be your friend because they recognize you as the girl whose four friends were murdered in an act of brutal cruelty.