(33) Blue

I used to live across the street from the prettiest girl. I'd always end up watching her, never telling her what I knew. I don't think it would have mattered to her though, either way. That's what I tell myself. What I'd tell myself as I'd watch her go to school with long turtle necks and a little too much make up.

I always saw the blue lights. They'd come quick and take her away. Her father standing in the yard. He was a stout man, with a messy black beard and big hands. I'd met him once or twice. He smelled like alcohol. I avoided him a lot. It was easy to avoid them both. They didn't seem to want to be spoken to.

Through the front window I'd watch friends and family visit them. A large man with a long beard and a red face. He'd bring a boy, and he and the pretty girl would walk down the street. A smaller man, clean cut and happy looking. Together the adults would go into the house. They always seemed happy. I don't think they knew either. It made me angry; when I saw the friends pull up.

Later on, during school, she didn't show up once. She hadn't been taken away, so I became worried. It got announced that the big man and the young boy she had walked with had died. The big guy was a cop, and some people hadn't been happy with him. Taken him out on the job, and who was left from the shooting took out the boy later. It was on the news. She had been at his funeral. She didn't go to school a lot after that, and only I knew why I think. Others, the adults, made a point I think not to notice.

At home, I heard it more. The blue lights came less though. One day, when my parents were out for their anniversary, I was watching TV while trying to do my math homework. I still know the problem I was having a hard time with today. I looked up and out the window, and I saw her hit the door. Than he fell to the floor. She collapsed in the yard, tried to crawl some I think, but then just fell. I shot up and across the street I ran. She wasn't breathing I think. I was able to see inside. He was looking out, blood crawling down his chin and some pooling around his knees. He was crying. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at her, the prettiest girl.

I saw the gun beside him, and I neared him. I don't remember what I was thinking. I don't know if I was really. I took up the gun, and could smell the alcohol again. He didn't look at me, until I turned to leave. "She's…" he sobbed. Talking must have been hard, with the gun wounds. I didn't respond. I ran back across the yard to my house and called the police. She was pronounced dead on the spot. Her father dropped into a coma, and was pronounced dead himself some days later. The cops never found the gun. I don't know why I took it. Maybe, to try and keep her name safe. I didn't want her killing her father. She didn't need that. Not when she knew her fathers love like she did the back of his hand. Such a sad story didn't deserve more. I think, I hope that's why I took it.

Her funeral was announced at the school, but I hadn't the nerve to go. I went by myself, after I got my license, and slowly made my way through the cemetery. I reached her grave, but somebody was already there. That happy man, except he wasn't so happy anymore. He was resting a rose on her tombstone, but he wasn't crying. I hadn't thought to bring flowers. He looked over to me, and smiled. "Are you a friend of hers?" he asked voice hoarse.

"Sort of," I mumbled. We talked a little bit, and I learned that he paid for both her and his funeral.

"I had suspected," he said after some long silence. "He was an alcoholic, and was violent. But I didn't want to believe he would have hit her. No matter how she came, he did love her."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Her mother was underage, and he had been nineteen I think at the time. He was put up for rape, probably by her parents. After some years, her mother died in a car crash, and he got custody of her," he said quietly. "He was so happy."

"It got worse," I said slowly, crying, "after the big man died." It was the first time I admitted to knowing.

"Yu was always our center," he said. I never saw him again after that. Some other family moved into the house. A good family from what I saw. She was talked about sometimes. I never joined the conversation. Sometimes, I think about her. I've moved, and have gotten through college and have gotten my Masters. But, sometimes, I still cry.

(34) Past

"I don't want to point fingers, but-" she said, however he interrupted her.

"You wouldn't be bringing it up if you weren't," he snapped. She flinched, and glared at the floor. He instantly softened up. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. I'm trying. I'm really trying. I've not yet solved my problems; I've still got my past attached to me. I know. But I'm trying baby." It sounded false, and he knew it.

"I know Ce. I know you're trying." She tried to get her hair back up into a ponytail. It didn't work. "You know I want to support you. You know I wasn't to have faith in you. But I don't have it yet. I'm not strong enough. More than anything I want to prove to my parents I was right. You're sure to be real good man. But, you're still that bad boy my parents saw. You've got to help me Ce. I'm not strong enough." She tried to look him in the eyes. Looking down at her, he felt his hear break. She was his everything. He wanted so much to see her happy. But she stood before him with dark rings under her eyes. Her hair didn't have that luster it used to, and he knew she wasn't eating like she should be. All because he had habits.

He had been the perfect bad boy. He looked good, partied, tried a few drugs-only got addicted to cigarettes though. He got in some bad fights, ditched school. Then he fell for her. Ms. Popular. She was the girl walking around the halls in brand names, heels, and her make up perfect. She was perfect. And she gave it all up for him. Her parents hated him. Her sister disapproved ho him. But she stayed with him.

"I don't know what to do," he said finally. That was the crack that broke the dam. She fell to the floor, letting her long hair dark hair fall loose and cried. She tried to stop the tears. She tried to wipe them away, to quiet the sobs. He slowly sat down, and held her chin. Carefully he wiped away a tear with his thumb. "I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry. You know I'd leave. Just tell me, baby. I'll leave." He felt his heart breaking with each word. He could leave her, but could he live without her?

She shocked him though. "Don't go. Don't leave me. I love you. I love you so much Ce. Don't leave me." She sobbed, looking up at him. He had nothing to say to that. That was raw emotion, a tender spot. All he could do was pull her into his lap and kiss her.

Out of breath, her resting her head on his chest, he ran his fingers through her hair. "I'm going to try Da. I'm going to try real hard. For you baby, I'm going to win. For you." She continued to cry, but it was soft tears. She didn't' shake anymore, sitting in his arms. This, he thought, was reason to fight.

The narrorator in Blue really isn't anybody. Or, I had nobody in mind. If you think of somebody, let me know. Past was me trying to give Ce and Da not the perfect relationship. Everything so easy to Ce, I figured he wouldn't always be the good boy. But for Da, if figured he'd try to change (or cut back a lot). So yeah, that's all I've written. Reviews and thoughts please.